ilifornia 

;ional 

ility 


STANDARD  SCHOOL  LIBRARY 


THE   PRACTICE   OF 
SELF-CULTURE 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

CULTURE  AND   RESTRAINT 

FRIENDSHIP 

WORK 


THE  PRACTICE 


OF 


SELF-CULTURE 


BY 

HUGH   BLACK 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

LONDON  :  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 


All  rights  reservtd 


'  Self-love,  my  liege,  is  not  so  vile  a  sin  as  self-neglecting." 

SHAKESPEARE. 


COPYRIGHT,  1904, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 

Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  October,  1904.    Reprinted 
December,  1904;  January,  1913. 


J.  8.  Cashing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


PREFACE 

THE  author  recently  published  a  book  on  "  Cul- 
ture and  Restraint,"  which  was  a  somewhat  philo- 
sophical discussion  of  the  two  great  ideals  of 
self-development  and  self-effacement,  showing  the 
strength  and  weakness  of  each  and  the  need  for 
a  completer  ideal  which  would  include  both.  Ser- 
vice offers  a  great  reconciling  thought  which  finds 
room  for  the  two  opposing  ideals.  This  present 
book  deals  with  the  practical  ways  in  which  the 
self  can  be  equipped  for  service.  It  frankly 
admits  that  self-culture  is  not  in  itself  a  complete 
ideal  for  human  life,  but  has  its  place  as  the 
necessary  education  to  make  a  man's  contribution 
to  the  world  worthy.  Nothing  could  be  finer  as 
a  definition  of  education  than  Milton's,  "  I  call  a 
complete  and  generous  education  that  which  fits 
a  man  to  perform,  justly,  skilfully,  and  magnani- 
mously, all  the  offices  both  private  and  public  of 
peace  and  war." 

The  author  trusts  that  the  title  "The  Practice 
of  Self -Culture "  will  justify  itself,  not  from  the 

V 

2038S06 


vi  PREFACE 

point  of  view  of  giving  many  details,  but  of  giving 
an  impulse  to  practice.  The  counsels  and  details 
are  well  enough  known,  but  our  chief  need  is  to 
lay  hold  of  a  comprehensive  scheme  into  which 
our  efforts  will  fall  easily  and  the  possession  of 
which  acts  as  an  inducement.  For  example,  in 
treating  of  bodily  culture  there  might  well  be  a 
paragraph  with  much  good  advice  about  eating 
and  drinking,  and  another  about  sleep  and  the 
like,  but  these  things,  which  would  be  in  place 
in  a  manual  of  hygiene,  are  matters  of  common 
knowledge.  What  we  need  is  the  right  view  of 
the  whole  subject,  which  will  make  us  treat  the 
body  sanely  and  reverently  as  an  integral  part  of 
the  life.  Practical  advice  does  not  necessarily 
mean  a  list  of  petty  precepts  and  counsels,  but 
advice  that  will  lead  to  practice ;  and  if  this  book 
gives  to  any  reader  some  impulse  in  the  great 
education  of  life,  it  will  have  served  its  purpose. 
A  friend  who  has  kindly  looked  over  some  of 
the  proofs  has  suggested  that  younger  readers 
who  might  find  the  first  chapter  a  little  difficult 
should  read  it  last,  and  should  begin  with  the 
second  chapter. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

PREFACE  .        .  v 


I 

PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT i 

II 

CULTURE  OF  BODY 35 

III 
CULTURE  OF  MIND 69 

IV 
INSTRUMENTS  OF  MENTAL  CULTURE  ...      97 

V 
CULTURE  AND  SPECIALISM 127 

VI 

CULTURE  OF  IMAGINATION 153 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

VII 

PACK 

CULTURE  OF  HEART l85 


VIII 

CULTURE  OF  CONSCIENCE    . 


IX 
CULTURE  OF  SPIRIT 233 


PROPORTIONAL   DEVELOPMENT 


'  I  would  have  his  outward  fashion  and  mien,  and  the  dis- 
position of  his  limbs,  formed  at  the  same  time  with  his  mind. 
'Tis  not  a  soul,  'tis  not  a  body  that  we  are  training  up,  but  a 
man,  and  we  ought  not  to  divide  him.'  —  MONTAIGNE. 


CHAPTER  I 

PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT 

r  I  "*HE  aim  of  self-culture  is  a  legitimate  one  so 
-*•  far  as  it  goes,  setting  as  its  ideal  the  just 
equipoise  of  all  the  nature,  the  due  balance  of 
powers,  concurrent  growth  in  all  possible  direc- 
tions. True  vital  efficiency,  even  bodily  efficiency, 
depends  on  the  harmony  of  all  the  varied  pow- 
ers of  a  man's  nature.  It  sometimes  seems  im- 
possible to  combine  the  seemingly  opposite 
qualities  that  go  to  the  make-up  of  a  complete 
man.  It  is  easy  to  be  one-sided,  to  specialise 
in  character,  to  develop  a  part  at  the  expense 
of  the  life  as  a  whole.  In  practice  we  see  the 
difficulty  of  combining  such  common  opposites 
as  duty  to  self  and  duty  to  others,  to  be  wise  for 
self-protection  and  simple  in  our  relations  with 
men  —  the  ordinary  situation  which  meets  us 
every  day  in  almost  every  act.  The  difficulty  of 
life  is  to  live  truly  and  completely,  to  make  the 
most  of  oneself,  to  become  the  highest  character 
3 


4      PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT 

•  that  is  possible.  We  cannot  devote  all  our 
attention  to  one  sphere  of  our  nature  without 
the  whole  suffering,  and  even  that  favoured 
sphere  itself  being  weakened.  However  difficult 
it  may  be,  we  feel  that  in  the  true  culture  of 
character  the  ideal  is  balance  of  opposing  ele- 
ments. The  complete  character  must  be  full- 
orbed,  with  no  undue  development  on  one  side, 
poised  amid  the  warring  forces  of  human  nature, 
'below  the  storm-mark  of  the  sky,  above  the 
flood-mark  of  the  deep.' 

The  fable  of  a  warfare  between  different  func- 
tions of  the  body  is  a  common  one  in  ancient 
literature,  as  in  the  speech  of  Menenius  Agrippa 
recorded  in  Livy,  and  made  famous  to  us  by 
Shakespeare's  use  of  it  in  Coriolanus.  The  illus- 
tration is  taken  from  the  various  members  of  the 
body,  each  essential  for  perfect  health  and  life, 
hand,  eye,  ear,  all  dependent  on  each  other  and 
all  contributing  to  the  good  of  the  man.  It  was 
applied  to  the  body  politic  to  show  the  need  of 
all  grades  of  society  taking  their  share  in  the 
national  life  and  working  sweetly  and  harmoni- 
ously for  the  good  of  the  State.  The  common 
weal  in  all  its  grades  and  ranks  is  a  conception 
which  would  naturally  arise  in  ancient  civic  life, 


PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT       5 

as  it  does  in  our  modern  social  conditions.  The 
real  organic  unity  of  society  is  one  of  the  great 
fruitful  truths  which  should  lead  the  way  in 
practical  efforts  for  the  betterment  of  all  classes. 
St.  Paul  used  the  same  illustration  when  teaching 
the  unity  of  the  Church  amid  its  variety  of  gift 
and  operation  and  administration.  'The  body  is 
not  one  member,  but  many.  The  eye  cannot 
say  to  the  hand,  I  have  no  need  of  thee :  nor 
again  the  head  to  the  feet,  I  have  no  need  of 
thee.  There  should  be  no  schism  in  the  body, 
but  the  members  should  have  the  same  care  one 
for  another.' l  The  Church  is  a  social  organism, 
and  needs  the  use  of  the  different  forms  of 
endowment  and  faculty  which  its  members 
possess.  All  individual  distinctions  of  gift  and 
of  temperament  and  of  attainment,  when  con- 
secrated by  a  common  faith  and  love,  blend  into 
one  perfect  life,  as  the  colours  of  the  spectroscope 
make  up  the  one  white  light.  Each  member 
exists  for  the  good  of  the  whole,  and  only  when 
each  is  performing  his  part  can  the  whole  be 
its  best. 

The  illustration  is   true  for  itself  in  the  lower 
level  of  the  individual,  as   well  as  in  the  wider 

1  I  Cor.  xii.  12-31. 


6       PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT 

social  range  to  which  it  was  so  often  applied  in 
ancient  literature.  After  all,  we  should  remember 
that  it  was  taken  from  a  truth  of  the  personal 
life,  and  was  applied  to  the  larger  life;  but  the 
truth  has  not  been  exhausted  by  us  even  in  its 
lower  level.  We  have  not  applied  it  with  suffi- 
cient vigour  and  breadth  to  the  whole  of  our 
individual  life.  What  is  true  of  the  body  is  true 
of  the  man :  what  is  true  of  the  physical  side  is 
true  of  complete  human  nature.  The  truth  of 
the  illustration  needs  to  be  enforced  in  the  nar- 
row sphere  of  the  individual  life  as  well  as  in 
the  wider  sphere  of  the  society.  The  personal 
ideal  as  well  as  the  social  ideal  is  proportional 
development — many  members  one  body,  many 
capacities  one  life.  The  unity  of  the  social 
organism  is  a  magnificent  conception  which  will 
bear  a  great  harvest  in  improved  conditions  and 
a  deepening  sense  of  corporate  responsibility  for 
all  the  members  of  the  State  ;  as  the  unity  of  the 
Church  carries  with  it  great  possibilities  of  com- 
fort and  inspiration  to  all  believing  men.  The 
unity  of  the  individual  life  also  has  vast  bear- 
ings on  thought  and  conduct,  and  needs  to  be 
emphasised  in  all  consideration  of  true  and  full 
education. 


PROPORTIONAL   DEVELOPMENT  7 

This  is  the  main  thesis  of  this  book,  which  *• 
seeks  to  treat  the  various  divisions  of  our  nature 
as  inseparably  related  to  each  other  and  to  the 
complete  life.  It  proposes  to  take  the  common 
principle  of  division,  accepting  the  duty  and  the 
right  of  the  culture  of  each  power,  and  at  the 
same  time  showing  the  danger  of  undue  develop- 
ment and  the  need  of  concurrent  growth.  In- 
tellect, for  example,  must  not  be  cultivated  at 
the  expense  of  the  affections,  and  emotion  must 
not  entrench  upon  the  place  and  power  of  the 
reason.  We  know  in  practice  how  easy  it  is 
in  planting  and  tending  a  virtue  to  sow  with 
it  its  corresponding  vice.  We  need  to  have 
some  scheme  of  what  human  nature  stands  for, 
that  we  may  be  able  to  apply  it  to  our  own 
case  and  see  whether  we  are  making  the  most 
of  ourselves.  It  does  not  matter  much  what 
classification  of  the  powers  we  follow.  The 
simplest  and  the  commonest  is  for  practical 
purposes  the  best.  The  common  division  is 
that  which  begins  with  the  body,  the  physical 
basis  of  life,  and  then  considers  the  mental 
superstructure  built  on  that,  and  then  the  moral 
and  spiritual  life. 

This  is   roughly  the  line  we  propose  to  take, 


8      PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT 

applying  in  each  case  our  main  thesis  that  there 
should  be  no  schism  in  a  man's  nature,  and  there- 
fore that  all  these  parts  of  life  merge  into  each 
other  and  affect  each  other.  Naturally  in  a 
treatise  on  self-culture  most  space  is  allowed 
to  that  of  intellect,  which  usually  indeed  arro- 
gates the  title  exclusively  to  itself.  For  clear- 
ness' sake  a  special  chapter  is  given  to  the 
place  of  imagination  as  a  special  power  of  mind 
which  asks  for  separate  consideration. 

The  method  of  self-culture,  which  takes  our- 
selves to  bits  and  goes  over  each  part  piece- 
meal, looking  after  the  interests  of  the  various 
sections,  now  the  development  of  body  and 
now  the  claims  of  mind,  is  not  a  complete 
method,  and  runs  risks  from  which  culture  has 
rarely  escaped  of  a  narrowness  of  its  own  and 
sometimes  an  empty  conceit.  It  suffers  also 
from  its  subjective  method,  and  too  little  appre- 
ciates the  healthy  unconcern  of  the  man  of 
action  who  never  stops  to  inquire  within  of 
himself.  But  anything  is  better  than  living 
at  random,  making  no  attempt  at  any  sort  of 
self-knowledge  or  self-improvement.  The  surface 
life  is  easy  enough  to  lead,  living  with  no  defi- 
nite object,  only  satisfying  instinct  when  it 


PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT       9 

becomes  imperious  enough  to  compel  us,  but 
with  no  intelligent  conception  as  to  what  we 
should  be  and  may  be.  Ruskin's  condemnation 
of  much  of  our  modern  life  was  that  it  appeared 
as  if  our  only  two  objects  were,  whatever  we 
have  to  get  more,  and  wherever  we  are  to  go 
somewhere  else.  This  aimless  discontent  is 
largely  due  to  the  meagre  view  of  human  life 
which  comes  from  lack  of  a  sincere  endeavour 
after  self-knowledge. 

A  large  culture  which  aims  at  complete  self- 
realisation,  seeking  the  perfection  of  one's  whole 
nature  in  a  complete  unity  of  character,  must 
be  confessed  to  be  rather  of  the  nature  of  an 
ideal  than  an  actual  reality.  Even  so,  it  is 
something  worth  striving  after;  for  it  will 
deepen  our  self-knowledge,  make  it  more  fruit- 
ful, and  show  us  where  are  the  points  of  least 
resistance  which  need  to  be  strengthened.  It 
is  much  to  know  where  our  weak  points  are  — 
few  men  get  even  as  far  as  that  in  self-knowledge. 
They  hide  their  weaknesses  from  themselves, 
and  never  make  a  frank  and  candid  examina- 
tion of  their  attainments.  To  take  stock  of 
our  assets  sometimes  is  as  wise  a  thing  in  life 
as  it  is  in  business.  A  man  has  been  known 


io  PROPORTIONAL   DEVELOPMENT 

to  drift  into  bankruptcy  in  business,  because  he 
dreads  the  revelation  which  a  close  inquiry  into 
his  affairs  would  bring,  and  prefers  to  shut  his 
eyes  to  the  real  state  of  matters.  The  same 
half-conscious  fear  sometimes  keeps  a  man  from 
self-examination,  in  case  he  may  lay  bare  to 
himself  the  poverty  of  the  land.  Only  the  man 
who  has  never  examined  his  own  knowledge 
can  plume  himself  on  its  sufficiency  either  in 
quality  or  quantity.  Rather,  the  profounder 
the  knowledge,  the  more  does  true  humility 
deepen.  When  we  scrutinise  our  ideas  of  things 

—  even  our  common   and  well-established    ideas 

—  we  discover  how   vague   some    of    them    are, 
and    how  mistaken   are   others.      To    bring   our 
powers      into      self-consciousness       immediately 
creates     duty     regarding     them.      This     is     the 
practical    result    of    a  wise    self-knowledge,   and 
explains  why  culture  must   begin   with   it  as  a 
method.     It   seeks  to  make   us  take  an   intelli- 
gent view  of  our  various  capacities,  and   so  to 
give  us  a  larger  conception   of  the  real   oppor- 
tunities of  life.     A  man  who  never  looks  within, 
and  takes  as  his  rule  of  conduct   the  accepted 
standards  of  his  environment,  can   be  very  com- 
placent about    his  attainments.      He  can    leave 


PROPORTIONAL   DEVELOPMENT  11 

large  tracts  of  his  nature  barren,  hardly  know- 
ing even  that  they  exist.  Thus  we  find  many 
for  whom  whole  worlds  of  thought  and  feeling 
arc  shut ;  some  to  whom  the  things  of  intellect 
are  a  closed  book,  and  others  to  whom  the 
things  of  spirit  are  as  in  a  land  that  is  very 
far  off. 

A  true  self-examination  is  necessary  for  in- 
tellectual progress,  as  well  as  for  moral  and 
spiritual  growth.  It  need  not  be,  and  should 
not  be,  the  morbid  introspection  which  lowers 
the  whole  vitality  and  weakens  effort.  That 
ruins  all  healthy  moral  life.  The  minute  search 
into  every  motive  of  an  act  produces  a  fertile 
crop  of  scruples,  and  results  in  a  debilitated 
state  of  spiritual  hypochondria.  To  watch  for 
every  sign  of  evil,  questioning  every  feeling, 
tormenting  oneself  with  every  fear,  is  the  way 
to  induce  some  taint  and  to  foster  moral  disease. 
It  is  so  in  the  region  of  the  physical.  We  have 
heard  of  the  man  who  thought  he  was  ill,  and 
after  reading  a  medical  book  concluded  that  he 
had  every  possible  disease  mentioned  in  the 
book.  As  he  came  to  the  description  of  each 
separate  ailment,  he  felt  all  the  symptoms  and 
could  locate  the  pain  in  every  organ.  The 


12  PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT 

wonder  was  that  he  was  alive  at  all  with  such 
a  mass  of  aches  and  pains.  Spiritual  hypo- 
chondria can  be  produced  in  the  same  way,  by 
a  morbid  self-scrutiny  that  will  never  let  the 
soul  alone,  and  will  insist  on  recognising  the 
taint  in  every  thought  and  every  motive.  A 
complete  and  fearless  self-examination  is  a  good 
thing  sometimes,  perhaps  even  at  stated  in- 
tervals, but  constant  and  minute  introspection 
only  saps  the  life  of  its  power. 

At  the  same  time,  self-knowledge  is  a  necessity 
if  we  are  to  have  any  consistent  and  wise  culti- 
vation of  our  nature.  Self-discipline  in  every 
sphere  begins  with  self-consciousness,  in  the 
fearless  scrutiny  of  both  powers  and  limitations. 
The  process  is  not  complete  until  it  is  lost  in 
self-forgetfulness,  as  the  art  which  remains  self- 
conscious  never  approaches  perfection ;  but  that 
same  art  requires  the  long  discipline  in  technique 
and  mastery  over  the  methods  of  work.  Simi- 
larly, character  must  ultimately  get  past  the  self- 
conscious  stage,  though  it  too  must  begin  by 
taking  itself  to  pieces  to  give  strenuous  attention 
where  it  is  needed.  Thus  the  method  of  culture, 
in  spite  of  the  objections,  justifies  itself  practi- 
cally ;  for  after  all  we  are  only  able  to  do  things 


PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT  13 

by  sections  because  of  our  natural  limitations. 
This  explains  the  constant  tendency  of  thought 
to  divide  our  life  into  departments.  It  is 
necessary  in  practice  and  is  right,  provided  we 
do  not  lose  sight  of  the  larger  whole  and  re- 
member that  no  part  can  be  its  best  without 
some  complete  and  harmonious  development. 

It  has  also  to  be  admitted  that  the  aim  of  self- 
culture,  as  usually  stated,  is  not  in  itself  a  suffi- 
cient ideal,  since  its  result  is  to  concentrate  all 
care  and  attention  on  oneself.  It  fails  even  of 
its  own  aim  of  complete  development  by  neglect- 
ing the  all-important  fact,  that  man  is  a  social 
being  and  can  only  come  to  his  true  self  by 
taking  his  place  in  the  common  service  of  the 
community.  No  scheme  which  concerns  itself 
solely  with  the  individual  can  be  a  final  one,  and 
self-culture  must  never  forget  the  strong  tempta- 
tion which  besets  it  to  wrap  itself  up  in  a  dis- 
guised selfishness.  We  can  only  obviate  this  by 
taking  ,a  broader  view  than  is  common  of  the 
sphere  of  culture  itself,  as  this  book  seeks  to  do. 
To  devote  all  consideration  to  the  development 
of  the  intellect  may  be  as  essentially  dwarfing  as 
to  devote  it  to  the  training  of  the  body.  We 
smile  at  the  youth  who  spends  much  time  com- 


I4  PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT 

placently  measuring  the  increase  of  biceps  or 
calf,  and  we  pity  the  man  who  is  always  thinking 
of  lungs  or  liver  or  nerves  ;  but  the  same  sort  of 
one-sided  narrowness  can  be  charged  against  the 
man  who  devotes  all  his  attention  to  this  or  that 
mental  function  in  the  pious  belief  that  he  is 
growing  up  into  a  perfect  culture.  The  funda- 
mental thesis  with  which  we  began  of  the  unity 
of  life  should  keep  us  right.  It  should  show  us 
the  place  which  the  element  of  social  service^ 
must  have  as  the  groundwork  even  of  our 
schemes  of  education.  We  do  this  in  the 
chapter  devoted  to  the  culture  of  heart,  as  the 
very  existence  of  such  social  feelings  of  sym- 
pathy and  affection  implies  the  duty  of  their 
exercise  as  truly  as  the  existence  of  intellectual 
capacity  demands  opportunities  for  training. 

It  is  true  that  in  a  sense  we  are  doing  the  best 
for  others  when  we  do  the  best  for  self,  since  we 
thus  bring  a  richer  contribution  to  the  world's 
life.  What  we  do  ultimately  depends  on  what 
we  are;  and  according  to  the  depth  and  wealth 
of  our  own  nature  can  our  value  to  society  be 
measured.  Every  highly  trained  capacity  is  a 
possible  instrument  of  social  service,  and  adds 
to  the  real  possessions  of  the  community.  Still, 


PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT  15 

any  individual  ideal  which  gives  no  definite  and 
conscious  place  to  the  claims  of  society  is  fatally 
imperfect,  and  dooms  itself  to  failure  even  in  its 
own  sphere.  To  be  himself,  a  man  must  get  out 
of  himself.  He  must  hold  all  he  has  for  a  larger 
purpose  than  any  self-improvement.  At  the 
best,  self-culture  of  all  kinds  is  only  like  the 
polishing  and  sharpening  of  an  instrument  to 
make  it  serve  for  the  best  work.  The  completest 
knowledge  and  refinement  of  feeling  are  not  for 
their  own  sake,  any  more  than  physical  training 
is  for  its  own  sake.  It  would  be  but  another 
kind  of  selfishness  of  a  more  subtle  sort  to  make 
such  an  ideal.  These  are  to  be  sought  in  order 
that  we  may  be  better  qualified  for  the  better 
service  of  life.  It  is  well  to  remember  that 
every  gain  carries  a  danger  of  corresponding  loss, 
and  that  the  very  things  of  which  culture  should 
assure  us  are  often  occasions  of  a  still  more 
delicate  temptation.  Every  new  endowment 
brings  a  necessary  possibility  of  its  abuse.  We 
are  not  therefore  to  shrink  from  them,  but  rather 
to  grasp  them  with  firmer  hold,  knowing  the 
danger  and  making  provision  against  it  as  com- 
pletely as  possible.  In  dealing  with  the  culture 
of  each  section  of  our  nature  it  is  the  plan  of 


16  PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT 

•  this  book  to  point  out  how  the  exclusive  train, 
ing  of  a  power  lays   it   open  to   the   danger   of 
loss. 

Within  its  own  sphere,  then,  we  must  recognise 
the  claims  of  a  comprehensive  scheme  of  self- 
culture,  provided  it  be  comprehensive  enough. 

•  True   physical   health   is   reached,   when   all  the 
organs   are   in   their   right   condition    of   depend- 
ence  and   co-ordination,   in   a   state   of   real   har- 
mony.    The  larger  health   also   is   secured  when 
the  whole  man  is  symmetrical,  when  all  the  ele- 
ments of  his  complex  nature  blend  in  the  unity 
of    life,    when    body  and    mind    and    heart    and 
imagination   and  conscience  and   will   find   their 
legitimate  scope,  when  intellect  is  cultivated  with- 
out starving  the  emotions  and   affections,  when 
the  outward   corresponds  with   the  inward,  when 
the  complete   life  is   reinforced   not   only  by  an 
enlightened   mind  and   heart   and  conscience  but 

«/  also  by  the  higher  sanctions  of  religion.  This 
training  of  a  full  and  perfect  man  must  be  the 
aim  of  education.  The  great  task  of  life  lies  in 
the  harmonious  unity  of  opposites.  We  need 
true  proportional  development,  concurrent  growth 
in  the  different  directions  open  to  us,  physical, 
mental,  moral,  spiritual.  The  practical  problem 


PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT  17 

lies  in  what  place  to  give  each  function,  and 
how  to  combine  them  in  the  unity  of  character. 
It  is  no  easy  task,  as  we  can  imagine,  for  any 
one  to  cultivate  the  whole  field  of  his  life.  There 
will  be  sure  to  be  gaps,  some  portions  overworked 
and  some  neglected.  To  a  large  extent  it  must 
remain  an  ideal  to  all  of  us,  but  an  ideal  is  useful 
even  when  we  know  we  cannot  attain  it.  Indeed 
if  we  did  attain,  it  would  cease  to  be  the  Ideal. 
It  is  the  experience  of  all  that  the  firmer  a  man 
lays  hold  of  an  ideal,  the  more  it  eludes  his  grasp. 
As  he  grows  in  knowledge  and  insight  and  moral 
vision  and  spiritual  attainment,  his  ideal  likewise 
grows  with  a  more  unearthly  beauty.  Far  vistas 
open  up  in  the  moral  life  as  the  seeker  advances. 
In  any  case,  even  with  the  confessed  failure  to 
realise  what  the  heart  sees  to  be  best,  it  is  well  to 
have  seen  the  vision  and  to  have  followed  after. 
Wordsworth,  in  a  short  preface  to  his  great 
Ode  to  Duty,  in  which  he  had  committed  himself 
from  that  hour  to  the  guidance  of  absolute  duty, 
confesses  that  his  wife  and  sister  often  twitted 
him  with  good  reason  for  having  forgotten  this 
dedication  of  himself  to  the  *  stern  lawgiver.' 
There  may  be  some  comfort  to  weaker  folk  in 
the  knowledge  that  even  the  man  whose  heart 
c 


i8  PROPORTIONAL   DEVELOPMENT 

burned  and  whose  eye  gleamed  at  the  fair  sight 
of  a  great  ideal  should  be  compelled  to  admit 
failure  in  the  harder  task  of  keeping  the  heights 
his  soul  was  competent  to  gain.  But  whatever 
failure  there  may  be  and  must  be,  who  shall  say 
that  it  was  nothing  that  Wordsworth  made  his 
dedication  to  serve  more  strictly  his  ideal  and  to 
follow  in  the  wake  of  a  star  ? 

We  should  encourage  ourselves  and  each  other 
to  cherish  high  aims  and  to  hold  out  before  us 
great  ends.  One  element  of  comfort  is  that  we 
never  know  what  undeveloped  and  even  unsus- 
pected faculties  lie  dormant  in  us  and  in  each 
other.  In  the  education  of  the  young,  for  in- 
stance, how  often  a  new  environment,  the 
inspiration  of  a  new  teacher,  the  introduction  of 
a  new  subject,  the  contact  with  a  new  thought, 
will  give  the  life  a  changed  bent  and  enlarge  the 
whole  vision.  A  student  sometimes  has  gone 
through  the  whole  conventional  curriculum  list- 
less and  unawakened,  till  he  came  to  a  subject 
that  gripped  him,  and  the  whole  man  grew  and 
expanded  in  the  light  and  heat,  and  all  the  pur- 
poses of  life  were  transformed.  'What  the  eye 
never  sees  the  heart  never  longs  for,'  is  an  Irish 
proverb  with  immense  truth  in  this  whole  region 


PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT  19 

of  education.  It  enforces  the  importance  of 
environment,  the  value  of  a  rich  and  varied 
treatment  of  a  child's  dawning  faculties,  open- 
ing up  possibilities  in  different  lines  till  one  day 
the  soul  may  wake  and  grow. 

This  is  the  reason  why  we  cannot  afford  to 
neglect  altogether  any  side  of  our  nature,  and 
why  the  different  elements  that  go  to  the  mak- 
ing of  a  true  manhood  and  a  perfect  character 
deserve  care  and  consideration.  Artists  tell  us 
that  nothing  needs  so  many  colours  for  its  por- 
trayal as  the  human  face,  though  to  the  outsider 
the  mere  colour  would  appear  to  be  the  least 
difficult  thing  in  portraiture.  Similarly,  many 
and  varied  elements  are  needed  for  the  pro- 
duction of  a  complete  character  and  life.  Many 
members  and  one  body  :  many  faculties  and  one 
personality.  If  we  leave  out  of  account  at 
present  the  ways  in  which  the  bodily  nature 
affects  both  mind  and  soul,  and  look  merely  at 
the  higher  reaches  of  our  being,  we  must  notice 
how  varied  the  elements  are  that  go  to  the 
making  of  a  full  human  life,  and  how  well 
balanced  and  harmonious  they  must  be.  Reason 
and  emotion,  faith  and  action,  conscience  to 
enlighten  and  will  to  initiate,  are  all  needed. 


20  PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT 

Also,  they  must  be  in  due  proportion  held  in  a 
rightful  equipoise,  thought  and  imagination  and 
sympathy  with  full  play  for  their  activity  without 
any  one  overshadowing  the  others — the  sensibil- 
ity that  does  not  weaken  the  intellect,  the  intellect 
that  does  not  dwarf  the  affections,  the  affections 
that  do  not  vitiate  the  conscience,  the  conscience 
that  does  not  unnerve  the  will,  the  will  that  does 
not  misdirect  the  moral  action. 

Such  an  ideal  may  seem  to  impose  on  us  a 
heavy  load,  but  a  deliberate  and  sustained 
approach  to  this  is  the  task  of  life,  and  without 
dishonour  we  are  not  permitted  to  lay  down  the 
burden  of  being  men.  In  a  sense,  however,  it  is 
not  so  hard  as  it  looks ;  for  it  is  found  in  practice 
that  it  is  in  some  ways  easier  to  attain  a  many- 
sided  development  than  an  ill-proportioned  one. 
The  part  is  harder  than  the  whole.  One  function 
helps  another  in  the  complete  life ;  one  grace 
encourages  and  nourishes  another.  Excesses  or 
deficiencies  of  one  faculty  are  corrected  by 
another.  The  faults  of  the  head  are  put  right  by 
the  virtues  of  the  heart,  whereas  an  exclusive 
attention  to  intellect  will  leave  the  defects  of  its 
quality  untouched.  The  excesses  of  sentiment 
and  sympathy  are  held  in  check  by  reason. 


PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT  21 

The  dangers  of  a  morbid  spiritualism  are  obvi- 
ated by  an  enlightened  conscience  and  the  moral 
duties  it  enforces.  Thus,  any  half  measure  of 
culture  is  really  further  from  the  chance  of  suc- 
cess than  the  undivided  whole.  If  we  look  care- 
fully we  find  that  one  power  slides  into  another, 
and  that  no  department  is  cut  off  from  the  rest 
with  clear  hard  lines. 

We  are  very  fond  of  dividing  our  life  into 
departments,  a  tendency  which  has,  as  we  have 
seen,  a  necessity  in  practice,  but  we  need  to  be 
reminded  of  the  underlying  unity.  We  see  this 
even  in  the  theoretic  division  which  is  usually 
made  in  treating  of  the  mind.  The  common 
division  of  the  mental  powers  is  into  feeling, 
knowing,  willing  ;  but  while  the  distinction  is  a 
real  one  and  can  be  truly  and  usefully  made,  it  is 
only  a  distinction  in  function.  The  three  states 
are  never  completely  separated,  but  intermingle 
with  each  other.  Every  mental  state  contains 
something  of  each  division,  even  although  the 
preponderant  element  may  be  so  great  that  we 
practically  omit  the  other  two  elements  and  call 
one  brain  action  a  thought,  another  an  emotion, 
another  a  volition.  The  highest  thought  is 


22  PROPORTIONAL   DEVELOPMENT 

always  suffused  with  emotion,  and  even  the 
coldest  and  driest  thinking  has  at  least  some 
colour  of  feeling —  if  it  be  only  a  prejudice  against 
emotion  in  thought !  '  The  light  of  the  under- 
standing,' says  Bacon,  '  is  not  a  dry  or  pure 
light,  but  receives  a  tincture  from  the  will  and 
affections.'  On  the  other  hand,  an  act  of  will 
is  impossible  without  some  of  both  the  other 
ingredients.  This  fact  of  the  inter-relation  of 
knowing  and  feeling  carries  with  it  some  practi- 
cal results  that  should  influence  our  judgments 
more  effectively  than  they  are  usually  allowed  to 
do.  For  one  thing,  it  illustrates  the  narrowness 
of  all  attempts  to  make  one  of  these  qualities  the 
supreme  guide  of  life,  as  when  reason  is  made 
the  test. of  all  things.  Our  vital  faith,  the  practi- 
cal creed  by  which  we  live,  is  dependent  on  more 
than  the  tyranny  of  reason,  and  sometimes  when 
there  is  a  conflict  between  intellect  and  emotion 
the  heart  rightly  speaks  out  in  protest,  as  in 
Tennyson's  lines :  — 

If  e'er  when  faith  had  fallen  asleep, 
I  heard  a  voice, '  Believe  no  more,' 

A  warmth  within  the  breast  would  melt 
The  freezing  reason's  colder  part, 
And  like  a  man  in  wrath,  the  heart 

Stood  up  and  answered,  « 1  have  felt.' 


PROPORTIONAL   DEVELOPMENT  23 

There  can  be  no  schism  between  these  essen- 
tial powers  without  loss  to  all.  Feeling,  thought, 
and  will  act  and  re-act  on  each  other  ceaselessly. 
In  our  commonest  experiences  we  know  how 
intimate  the  connection  is,  when  a  train  of 
thinking  is  started  by  some  feeling,  and  a 
decision  is  reached  as  a  result.  How  often  if 
we  analyse  some  experience  we  will  find  that 
an  emotion  begat  the  thought,  and  the  thought 
blossomed  into  a  determination.  There  can  be 
no  real  and  effective  willing  without  both  some 
feeling  and  some  thinking.  And  on  the  other 
hand  the  will  can  discipline  both  emotion  and 
thought,  can  often  determine  what  we  shall  feel 
and  think,  can  choose  among  various  courses  of 
feeling  and  thinking,  reject  certain  natural  lines 
of  reflection  and  deliberately  encourage  other 
classes  of  thought.  That  is  why  the  will  plays 
such  a  large  part  in  moral  life,  and  why  it  is 
important  in  any  scheme  of  culture.  A  man  can 
determine  to  some  extent  what  thoughts  and 
feelings  and  imaginations  he  will  harbour  in 
his  mind,  and  to  which  he  gives  ready  hospi- 
tality. It  is  perhaps  this  power  of  will  which 
distinguishes  men  most ;  for  intellectually  con- 
centration of  mind  depends  on  it,  and  morally 


24  PROPORTIONAL   DEVELOPMENT 

often  the  whole  character  of  a  man's  inward  life. 
The  highest  intellectual  life  will  be  where  these 
related  powers  are  in  harmony,  where  the 
emotions  are  not  starved  by  the  reason,  where 
feeling  is  not  permitted  to  distemper  the  mind, 
and  where  the  will  is  not  atrophied  by  want  of 
use.  The  heart  must  be  allowed  to  testify 
boldly,  if  need  be,  against  'the  freezing  reason's 
colder  part.'  What  we  feel  is  as  true  a  fact 
as  what  we  think.  To  omit  this  fundamental 
place  of  emotion,  as  so  many  do  in  making 
judgments  about  religion,  is  to  vitiate  their 
conclusions. 

In  other  and  broader  ways  we  often  look  upon 
ourselves  as  a  bundle  of  qualities  unrelated  to 
each  other  in  any  vital  fashion,  and  give  too 
little  thought  to  the  unity  of  character  which 
should  be  our  ideal.  This  sense  of  disunion  is 
probably  a  necessary  stage  in  education,  and 
certainly  it  is  encouraged  by  the  various  forces 
that  act  upon  us  in  creating  our  moral  char- 
acter. We  can  hardly  help  feeling  as  if  our 
moral  life  were  in  detached  fragments  ;  for  we 
are  the  fruit  of  many  social  influences  differ- 
ing vastly  in  their  effects  and  in  their  method 
-  of  working.  We  speak  of  the  organic  nature 


PROPORTIONAL   DEVELOPMENT  25 

of  society  moulding  men  and  producing  moral 
results  which  in  their  sum  we  call  character ; 
but  society  is  not  one  invariable  force  even 
though  we  rightly  enough  call  it  an  organism. 
In  the  region  of  personality  and  moral  life  all 
our  analogies  from  the  natural  world  are  only 
figures  of  speech,  to  be  interpreted  with  a  large 
margin  of  exception  and  correction.  An  or- 
ganism in  the  animal  or  vegetable  kingdom  is 
a  body  constituted  of  various  essential  and  inter- 
dependent organs,  and  while  it  is  true  that  in  a 
large  view  society  shows  an  organic  structure 
built  up  by  an  indwelling  principle  of  life  in  the 
body  politic,  yet  it  must  be  remembered  that 
we  cannot  define  the  social  organism  completely 
in  terms  of  physiology.  In  this  sphere  of  moral 
character  we  are  bound  to  blunder  if  we  assume 
that  society  contains  a  complete  and  perfect 
ethical  unity.  The  fact  is  that  society,  though 
spoken  of  in  the  large  as  one  definite  and  dis- 
tinct environment,  is  composed  for  all  of  us 
of  various  ingredients  all  seeming  to  work 
blindly.  When  we  say  that  the  forces  of  society 
play  upon  us,  we  must  not  forget  how  different 
these  forces  are  in  their  nature.  They  can  only 
be  worked  up  into  unity  in  the  unity  of  our  own 


26  PROPORTIONAL   DEVELOPMENT 

life,  and  this   is  why  an  intelligent  and  compre- 
hensive scheme  of  self-culture  is  needed. 

Society,  for  instance,  comprises  to  us  such 
different  influences  as  the  family,  the  Church, 
the  civic  conditions,  the  industrial  relations  so 
different  in  different  trades  and  professions. 
Even  if  the  home  life  for  all  were  one  consistent 
influence  about  which  we  could  speak  as  of  one 
colour  —  as,  alas!  we  cannot  —  there  would  still 
be  the  great  variety  introduced  by  the  other 
component  parts  of  society.  The  best  home 
life  presents  a  type  of  moral  education  hugely 
different  from  the  influences  of  our  ordinary 
work,  which  also  is  expected  to  be  a  moral 
education.  A  young  man  beginning  life  finds 
it  hard  to  relate  the  two  standards  to  each  other. 
We  cannot  be  surprised  if  the  various  social 
forces  now  overlap  and  now  leave  gaps  in  the 
production  of  a  complete  moral  character;  and 
we  cannot  be  surprised  if  in  our  own  experience 
we  are  troubled  by  a  haunting  sense  of  disunion 
within,  as  though  we  were  made  up  of  unrelated 
virtues  and  faults.  The  standard  of  the  family 
and  that  of  the  Church  speak  with  such  different 
voices  from  the  standard,  say,  in  our  commercial 
or  our  political  life.  Yet  we  feel  sure  that  there 


PROPORTIONAL   DEVELOPMENT  27 

should  be  no  real  division,  but  that  our  character 
should  be  built  up  in  consistency  and  in  unity. 

In  a  very  real  sense  this  is  indeed  so  in  spite 
of  appearances.  A  man's  life  creates  in  him  a 
distinct  character  which  is  compounded  of  all 
that  he  is.  We  come  to  feel  that  there  is  a  root 
principle,  which  unifies  all  his  varied  experience 
and  gives  one  colour  and  tone  to  his  life.  In 
our  practical  judgment  of  men  we  accept  this. 
We  may  be  wrong  in  our  judgment,  but  that 
does  not  destroy  the  fact ;  it  only  shows  that 
from  want  of  adequate  data  we  have  made  a 
mistake.  When  we  know  a  man  thoroughly, 
his  strong  and  weak  points,  his  virtues  and  fail- 
ings, we  are  able  to  sum  up  what  we  conceive 
to  be  his  character.  Much  nonsense  is  talked 
about  the  dual  nature  of  man,  as  if  he  were  two 
or  more  persons  living  within  the  one  tenement 
of  the  body,  a  Dr.  Jekyll  and  a  Mr.  Hyde,  now 
one  and  now  the  other,  now  kind  and  now  cruel, 
now  high-minded  and  now  base.  The  truth  of 
this  crude  statement  of  life  is  of  course  obvious. 
It  is  to  say  that  character  is  complex,  as  it  must 
be  when  acted  on  by  such  various  forces  as  we 
have  seen.  Good  in  a  man  has  often  a  very 
unstable  equilibrium,  and  evil  is  not  enthroned  in 


28  PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT 

unchallengeable  power.  We  see  the  strangest 
mixture  of  qualities  in  a  single  man,  and  the 
strangest  mixture  of  motives  in  a  single  act. 
There  is  a  soul  of  good  in  things  evil,  and  evil 
clings  to  the  skirts  of  good.  Still,  there  is  a 
real  unity  of  character  which  is  in  process  of 
growing  in  every  man.  It  is  only  in  the  making, 
but  its  dominant  features  are  ceaselessly  shaping 
the  whole.  The  two  seemingly  opposite  features 
of  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde  are  due  often  to 
the  one  root  of  character.  They  may  be  both 
the  fruit  of  selfishness  —  now  kind  and  cruel, 
generous  and  mean,  according  to  circumstances. 
The  variety  has  a  deep  underlying  unity  of 
disposition  at  its  base. 

This  suggests  another  common  way  in  which 
we  introduce  division  into  our  life,  by  cutting  it 
into  sections  which  we  label  sacred  and  secular. 
It  is  an  even  more  artificial  division,  but  it  has 
perhaps  with  most  of  us  far  more  practical 
effects.  We  know  from  experience  how  per- 
nicious it  may  be  in  life,  and  how  demoralising 
to  religion.  We  cannot  divide  our  life  thus  into 
air-tight  compartments,  as  if  what  is  in  one  bit 
could  have  no  dealings  with  what  is  in  another, 
as  if  the  sacred  side  of  us  had  nothing  to  say  to 


PROPORTIONAL   DEVELOPMENT  29 

the  secular  side,  and  the  secular  can  be  kept 
from  influencing  the  sacred.  It  is  a  vain  dream. 
Our  character  is  all  of  a  piece,  and  the  value  of 
our  life  must  some  time  or  other  get  down  to 
one  common  denominator.  We  cannot  cut  off 
a  little  section  and  label  it  sacred,  hedging  it 
round  from  the  contamination  of  secular  things. 
If  the  sacred  is  not  elevating  and  inspiring  the 
secular,  the  secular  will  assuredly  drag  the  other 
down  to  its  own  level. 

Without  entering  more  fully  into  these  com- 
mon devices  we  have  of  creating  disunion  within 
ourselves  —  the  common  division  we  make 
between  body  and  mind  to  be  treated  in  the 
next  chapter,  the  division  between  different 
functions  of  the  mind  itself,  the  practical  division 
of  life  into  sacred  and  secular  —  the  great  question 
we  have  to  face  is  how  we  are  to  arrive  at  real 
unity,  how  to  reconcile  all  the  diverse  parts  of 
our  complex  life  and  stand  complete  without 
any  schism  in  the  life.  There  is  no  swift  and  s 
easy  cure-all  that  can  be  used  like  a  quack 
medicine.  It  can  only  be  done  by  a  process  of 
unification,  and  the  process  must  be  a  religious 
one.  There  is  no  other  power  can  do  it.  Deep 


3o  PROPORTIONAL   DEVELOPMENT 

and  sacred  sanctions  of  duty  must  pervade  and 
inspire  the  practical  scheme  of  self-culture  we 
choose.  It  is  certainly  the  religious  task  to 
bring  every  power  and  thought  and  faculty  into 
relation  to  religion.  We  cannot  let  go  any 
department  of  our  nature  as  of  no  account, 
without  suffering  loss. 

Faith  needs  reason  to  stiffen  it  and  protect  it, 
as  zeal  needs  knowledge  to  steady  it  and  direct 
it.  The  intellectual  faculties  have  to  be  re- 
deemed from  waste  and  failure  as  well  as  the 
other  parts  of  our  being.  When  they  are  so 
reclaimed  and  taken  into  the  service  of  the 
highest,  the  intellectual  enriches  the  whole  life 
of  faith.  To  leave  out  reason  as  if  religion  had 
no  concern  with  it  is  to  make  an  irreparable 
breach  in  the  life,  and  is  as  foolish  as  if  the  eye 
said  to  the  hand,  I  have  no  need  of  thee.  We 
hold  our  faith  by  a  very  insecure  tenure  if  we 
refuse  to  bring  our  understanding  to  bear  on  it. 
The  apostolic  counsel  is  certainly  safer  and 
wiser,  to  be  ready  to  give  to  every  man  a  reason 
for  the  hope  that  is  in  us.  In  the  course  of  a 
high  argument  the  author,  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews  stops  to  complain  of  the  slowness  and 
dulness  of  apprehension  of  his  readers,  which 


PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT  31 

makes  it  difficult  for  him  to  go  on  with  the  higher 
teaching.  He  cannot  explore  the  profounder 
reaches  of  truth,  he  tells  them,  because  they  have 
not  made  themselves  fit  to  follow  him.  When 
he  comes  to  speak  of  such  deep  things,  it  is  as  if 
they  had  suddenly  become  dull  of  hearing,  and 
could  not  understand  his  speech.  They  have 
remained  children  content  with  the  rudiments  of 
truth,  content  to  live  on  milk  diet  so  that  they 
cannot  take  the  solid  food  he  is  prepared  to  give 
them.  And  yet,  he  contends,  they  ought  to  have 
grown  up  and  gone  on  developing,  and  should 
indeed  have  been  in  a  position  to  be  teachers 
themselves.  If  they  had  exercised  their  powers 
they  would  not  now  be  placidly  accepting  spoon- 
meat  like  children,  but  would  have  been  full- 
grown  men  to  whom  solid  food  was  natural. 

If  growth  in  knowledge  and  the  development 
of  intellect  are  necessary  to  understand  in  a 
progressive  degree  spiritual  truth,  no  less  needful 
is  the  cultivation  of  the  higher  emotions.  As 
we  have  seen,  this  is  true  even  in  the  sphere 
of  ordinary  thought.  Herbert  Spencer  in  the 
Preface  to  his  Autobiography  declares  that  he 
has  shown  by  his  book  that  in  the  genesis  of  a 
system  of  thought  the  emotional  nature  is 


32  PROPORTIONAL   DEVELOPMENT 

perhaps  as  large  a  factor  as  the  intellectual 
nature.  Spencer  showed  this  rather  negatively 
than  otherwise ;  for  one  of  the  prominent  marks 
of  his  life  seems  to  be  that  he  held  his  emotional 
nature  in  perpetual  restraint.  The  sentiments 
that  appealed  to  him  were  usually  the  most 
abstract,  with  little  blood  in  their  veins.  But 
there  is  a  sense  in  which  the  remark  is  true  even 
of  his  own  work,  almost  exclusively  intellectual 
as  it  appears.  If  true  there,  it  is  a  hundredfold 
truer  in  the  range  of  common  human  life.  The 
region  of  feeling  lies  specially  near  to  religion 
and  cannot  be  overlooked.  The  life  of  the  heart 
is  what  makes  up  the  individuality  of  each  of  us 
more  than  even  our  distinctive  intellectual  powers. 
Religion  shows  her  dominant  power  just  here 
amid  the  affections  and  sympathies.  Religion 
bends  and  shapes  the  life  at  the  points  where 
feeling  flames. 

In  the  same  way  it  can  be  shown  that  religion 
demands  the  cultivation  of  imagination,  and 
conscience,  and  will,  and  every  power  and  faculty 
'  which  man  possesses.  There  are  many  capaci- 
ties but  the  one  life,  and  each  faculty  is  needed 
to  make  up  the  perfect  unity.  The  truest 
religion  inspires  the  cultivation  of  intellect  and 


PROPORTIONAL   DEVELOPMENT  33 

all  the  higher  emotions,  and  is  itself  in  turn  re- 
inforced by  their  training.  Lasting  injury  is 
done  to  character  when  one  of  the  elements  is 
neglected.  Thus  the  proportional  development, 
which  the  best  culture  asks  for,  is  also  sanc- 
tioned, and  even  required,  by  religion. 

Many  who  go  with  us  thus  far  and  assent  to 
all  this  as  a  fair  ideal  for  the  life  of  man  do  not 
see  the  further  implication  of  their  position  which 
relates  to  the  place  of  religion  itself,  the  place  of 
the  soul,  and  the  innate  demand  for  spiritual 
culture.  If  man  has  a  life  towards  the  things 
below  him,  he  has  a  life  also  towards  the  things 
above  him.  Only  when  he  fulfils  the  true  end 
of  his  being  in  that  higher  life  does  man  truly 
live.  With  satiated  desire,  gratified  ambition, 
intellectual  attainment,  it  is  a  cramped  and 
narrow  life  with  already  the  gnawing  of  the 
worm  in  it,  if  there  be  in  it  no  fellowship  with 
the  divine,  none  of  the  faith  and  hope  and  love 
of  religion.  There  is  a  deadly  schism  in  the  life ; 
all  our  best  powers  have  broken,  ragged  edges  to 
them,  if  they  are  not  carried  forward  and  upward 
into  the  life  of  God.  The  depth  and  richness  of 
a  complete  nature  are  lacking  without  this  higher 
culture.  There  can  be  no  true  proportional 


34  PROPORTIONAL  DEVELOPMENT 

development,  no  true  balance  of  power,  no  true 
harmony  of  gift,  until  they  are  all  submitted  in 
humility  and  gratitude  and  loving  service  to  their 
Giver,  who  reconciles  all  the  varied  capacities 
and  divergent  powers  of  our  human  nature  into 
one  consistent  whole. 


CULTURE   OF   BODY 


'  Perhaps  nothing  will  so  much  hasten  the  time  when  body 
and  mind  will  both  be  adequately  cared  for,  as  a  diffusion  of 
the  belief  that  the  preservation  of  health  is  a  duty." 

—  HERBERT  SPENCER. 


CHAPTER   II 

CULTURE  OF  BODY 

"  I  ^HE  common  division  of  man  naturally  begins 
*-  with  the  body,  the  physical  basis  of  life.  Its 
claim  to  full  culture  is  one  which  we  must  make 
willingly  and  gladly,  realising  the  immense  part 
it  plays  in  every  region.  To  neglect  duty  here  is 
to  take  away  from  efficiency  everywhere.  Any 
serious  derangement  of  the  physical  nature 
maims  and  distorts  every  higher  function.  The 
Greeks  made  physical  training  a  science,  one  of 
the  necessary  parts  of  their  scheme  of  education. 
The  Gymnasium  was  one  of  the  great  centres  of 
a  city's  life,  where  especially  all  the  young  men 
gathered.  That  is  why  philosophers  and  teachers 
frequented  them,  as  they  easily  and  naturally 
found  an  audience  there.  There  were  three  great 
gymnasia  in  Athens  famous  to  us,  because  in  one 
of  them  Plato  taught  and  Aristotle  in  another. 
By  their  muscular  development  and  their  careful 
37 


38  CULTURE  OF  BODY 

bodily  training,  the  Greek  ideal  of  beauty  and 
dignity  and  proportion  in  the  human  figure 
remains  as  one  of  the  great  glories  of  art.  We 
may  sometimes  think  that  the  cult  of  athletics  is 
in  danger  of  being  carried  too  far  among  us,  but 
it  is  nothing  compared  to  the  practice  of  the 
Greeks.  To  them  it  was  almost  a  half  of  human 
education.  Every  town  had  its  gymnasium,  its 
baths,  its  racing-track,  on  a  scale  hardly  con- 
ceivable by  us.  Training  of  the  body  was  set 
about  on  scientific  principles,  not  haphazardly  as 
sports  for  the  pastime  of  children  or  as  exhibi- 
tions for  the  amusement  of  spectators.  Philoso- 
phers gravely  reasoned  out  the  due  proportion 
which  athletic  development  should  have  in  the 
ideal  education.  Even  Plato  in  his  scheme  of 
education  sets  apart  exclusively  for  'gymnastic' 
the  years  of  a  young  man's  life  which  seem  to 
us  the  most  essential  for  establishing  moral 
character  and  intellectual  pursuits — those  be- 
tween seventeen  and  twenty.  It  was  because 
he  took  long  views  of  life  that  he  was  willing  to 
make  this  sacrifice  of  these  most  precious  years. 
He  believed  that  it  would  pay  afterwards  both 
morally  and  intellectually. 
The  many  references,  casual  though  they  are, 


CULTURE  OF   BODY  39 

scattered  through  the  New  Testament  itself  give 
us  some  indication  of  the  place  the  gymnastic  art 
held  in  Greek  life.  The  New  Testament  never 
throws  contempt  on  the  body,  but  recommends  a 
wise  and  sane  treatment  of  it,  and  even  when 
advocating  a  higher  kind  of  discipline  does  not 
denounce  bodily  training.  It  has  its  uses,  it 
asserts,  though  these  can  only  be  partial,  having 
reference  only  to  one  department  of  a  man's 
nature.  All  who  saw  the  results  could  not  but 
admire  the  perfection  of  strength  and  beauty  and 
health  which  was  the  result  of  the  classic  training. 
St.  Paul  more  than  once  points  the  lesson  of  self- 
discipline  by  a  reference  to  the  Isthmian  games, 
the  great  festival  of  Greece.  Every  competitor 
at  these  great  contests,  every  one  who  entered 
for  a  race  or  for  a  boxing-match,  did  so  after 
the  most  careful  training  and  the  most  stringent 
discipline.  'Every  man  that  striveth  for  the 
mastery  is  temperate  in  all  things,'  says  the 
Apostle,  asking  from  his  readers  for  something 
of  the  same  eager  interest  and  willing  sacrifice 
in  the  higher  race  and  the  nobler  fight  of  life. 
The  training  was  very  severe,  and  was  entered  on 
ten  months  before  the  contest.  Epictetus  gives 
the  rules  for  the  training  of  an  athlete:  'Thou 


40  CULTURE  OF  BODY 

must  be  orderly,  living  on  spare  food,  abstain 
from  confections,  make  a  point  of  exercising  at 
the  appointed  time  in  heat  and  in  cold,  nor  drink 
cold  water,  nor  wine  at  hazard.  In  a  word,  give 
thyself  up  to  thy  training-master  as  to  a 
physician,  and  then  enter  on  the  contest.'  No 
serious  competitor  could  afford  to  be  self- 
indulgent,  and  so  the  training  naturally  suggested 
metaphors  for  self-mastery,  the  taming  of  the 
evil  within  and  harnessing  the  powers  of  life  to 
good. 

The  Greek  passion  for  gymnastic,  or  what  we 
would  call  athletics,  finds  some  justification  from 
the  facts  of  life.  What  the  precise  connection  is 
between  the  body  and  the  higher  life  we  need 
not  try  to  discover,  whether  in  the  ultimate  issue 
character  depends  on  the  physical  nature,  or 
whether  the  body  is  the  expression  of  the  soul. 
For  a  true  sense  of  duty,  all  we  need  to  know  is 
that  the  connection  is  of  the  closest,  between  the 
higher  life  of  intellect  and  morals  and  spirit  on 
the  one  side,  and  on  the  other  what  we  are 
accustomed  to  think  the  lower  life  of  the  body. 
We  need  not  accept  entirely  the  fanciful  idea  of 
some  philosophers  and  poets,  as  in  Spenser's 
beautiful  lines, 


CULTURE   OF   BODY  41 

For  every  spirit  as  it  is  most  pure, 
And  hath  in  it  the  more  of  heavenly  light, 
So  it  the  fairer  body  doth  procure 
To  habit  in,  and  it  more  fairly  dight 
With  cheerful  grace  and  amiable  sight ; 
For  of  the  soul  the  body  form  doth  take  ; 
For  soul  is  form,  and  doth  the  body  make. 

The  relation  at  least  is  one  that  cannot  be 
severed,  and  to  try  to  solve  the  problem  as  to 
which  comes  first  is  like  the  ancient  conundrum 
which  Plutarch  tells  us  philosophers  discussed,  as 
to  whether  the  hen  or  the  egg  came  first.  For 
practical  purposes,  all  we  need  to  know  is  that 
there  is  a  real  and  vital  connection  between  the 
hen  and  the  egg. 

Montaigne  comes  nearer  the  practical,  though 
some  may  think  that  even  he  is  a  little  fanciful 
in  putting  the  cart  before  the  horse,  when  he 
says,  '  The  soul  that  entertains  philosophy  ought 
to  be  of  such  a  constitution  of  health  as  to  render 
the  body  in  like  manner  healthful  too ;  she  ought 
to  make  her  tranquillity  and  satisfaction  shine  so 
as  to  appear  without,  and  her  contentment  ought 
to  fashion  the  outward  behaviour  to  her  own 
mould  and  consequently  to  fortify  it  with  a 
graceful  confidence,  an  active  carriage,  and  a 
serene  and  contented  countenance.  The  most 


41  CULTURE   OF  BODY 

manifest  sign  of  wisdom  is  a  continual  cheerful- 
ness.'1 We  do  not  need  to  subscribe  to  what 
is  called  the  religion  of  healthy-mindedness  in 
order  to  admit  freely  the  great  and  common 
truth  which  it  emphasises.  If  courage  and  hope 
and  trust  have  a  conquering  efficacy  over  some 
bodily  ailments  and  over  some  nervous  states  of 
mind,  while  doubt  and  fear  reduce  vitality,  we 
know  even  more  certainly  the  converse  side  that 
states  of  body  influence  the  higher  life  in  all  its 
activities.  The  common  man's  philosophy  is 
usually  the  fruit  of  his  physical  temperament. 
Most  optimisms  can  be  traced  to  a  good 
digestion,  and  most  pessimisms  to  dyspepsia. 

It  influences  art  and  literature  in  ways  too 
subtle  always  to  discover.  A  very  observant 
doctor  mentioned  as  an  interesting  fact  that  the 
writers  of  the  vulgar  and  brutal  fiction  of  our 
day  are  all  in  bad  health.  He  spoke  from  know- 
ledge of  some  of  them,  and  perhaps  he  was  not 
far  wrong  in  his  diagnosis  of  all.  Certainly  one 
might  argue  from  the  unhealthiness  of  mind  to  at 
least  bad  habits  of  body.  The  greatest  writers 
impress  us  with  a  sense  of  the  healthy  vigour  and 
sanity  of  their  mind.  With  them  we  are  in  a 

1  Essay,  The  Education  of  Children. 


CULTURE   OF   BODY  43 

large  world,  under  wide  skies,  and  amid  whole- 
some life.  There  is  no  feeling  of  depressed 
vitality  about  them  or  their  work.  The  morbid 
and  diseased  and  the  tragic  side  of  the  world 
have  their  place  in  their  interpretation  of  human 
life,  but  always  in  the  natural  proportion  and 
from  the  point  of  view  that  health  is  the  normal. 
Clear  vision,  and  keen  insight,  and  true  feeling, 
and  productive  energy  in  all  forms  of  art  depend 
on  conditions  of  health  of  body  and  mind  and 
soul.  Disease  of  all  sorts  reduces  vital  force, 
distorts  the  perspective,  and  takes  away  from  the 
power  of  working.  When  it  invades  the  sanc- 
tuary of  the  soul  it  ruins  the  qualities  that  go  to 
produce  great  art.  As  a  fact  on  the  other  side 
in  this  connection,  Emerson  in  his  classification 
of  the  different  kinds  of  eloquence  has  one 
which  he  calls  animal  eloquence,  the  first  quality 
of  which  is  a  certain  robust  and  radiant  physical 
health,  and  produces  its  effects  by  its  great 
volumes  of  animal  heat.  It  is  true  that  many  a 
man  with  weak  lungs  and  frail  stature  has  made 
his  mark  in  oratory  through  the  inward  flame 
that  triumphed  over  the  physical  weakness,  but 
it  has  been  done  at  great  cost  and  under  severe 
handicap. 


44  CULTURE  OF   BODY 

We  cannot  fail  to  see  that  the  connection 
between  body  and  mind  is  a  very  close  one,  and 
when  we  note  how  the  one  affects  the  other  we 
must  admit  that  health  is  a  moral  duty.  The 
value  of  health  for  Jtappiness  is  perhaps  only 
fully  appreciated  by  those  who  have  lost  it.  We 
have  all  known  some  to  whom  the  finest  gifts  of 
fortune  were  made  bitter  and  valueless  through 
physical  weakness.  There  is,  of  course,  the  con- 
verse truth  that  some  bodily  ailments  have  their 
origin  in  the  mind,  and  sometimes  if  physicians 
could  minister  to  a  mind  diseased,  they  could  cure 
their  patients  easily  ;  but  this  fact  must  not  make 
us  careless  of  the  equal  truth,  that  depressed  bodily 
functions  mean  depressed  mental  functions,  and 
that  the  man  likely  to  be  happy  and  to  live  a 
sane,  wholesome  life  is  the  healthy  man.  The 
connection  between  health  and  happiness  is  a 
commonplace;  at  least  we  easily  admit  that 
pain  and  constant  bad  health  will  counterbalance 
almost  any  possible  gifts  of  fortune.  Carlyle  in 
his  Rectorial  Address  to  the  students  of  the 
Edinburgh  University  put  this  in  weighty  words : 
'  Finally,  I  have  one  advice  to  give  you  which  is 
practically  of  very  great  importance.  You  are  to 
consider  throughout  much  more  than  is  done  at 


CULTURE   OF   BODY  45 

present,  and  what  would  have  been  a  very  great 
thing  for  me  if  I  had  been  able  to  consider,  that 
health  is  a  thing  to  be  attended  to  continually, 
that  you  are  to  regard  it  as  the  very  highest  of 
all  temporal  things.  There  is  no  kind  of  achieve- 
ment you  could  make  in  the  world  that  is  equal 
to  perfect  health.  What  to  it  are  nuggets  or 
millions  ? ' 

The  duty  of  a  wise  care  for  health  is  bigger 
than  merely  adding  an  important  asset  for  per- 
sonal happiness.  To  a  large  extent  it  deter- 
mines the  efficiency  of  our  lives.  Its  results  are 
seen  all  along  the  line,  giving  a  bias  to  our  views, 
and  affecting  our  capacity  to  work  and  the  quality 
of  our  work.  Students  especially  sometimes 
forget  that  the  brain  can  be  overtaxed,  and  like 
an  overbent  bow  may  never  quite  recover  from 
the  strain.  It  often  demands  from  the  student 
great  control,  and  what  looks  like  sacrifice,  for 
him  to  rigorously  follow  the  rules  of  health,  such 
as  attention  to  diet  and  sleep  and  exercise.  He 
is  not  interested  in  physical  exercise,  and  can  get 
up  no  sort  of  enthusiasm  for  games  and  has  none 
of  the  sportsman's  instinct,  while  he  is  intensely 
interested  in  his  intellectual  pursuits.  He  is 
absorbed  in  great  studies,  the  passion  of  high 


46  CULTURE  OF   BODY 

thought  is  upon  him,  and  noble  ambitions  kindle 
in  his  mind.  Yet  even  for  the  sake  of  his  work 
in  the  long  run  he  cannot  break  these  common 
laws  with  impunity.  Many  a  man  learns  after  it 
is  too  late  that  he  would  have  been  fit  for  better 
and  more  work,  if  he  had  always  preserved  the 
sane  and  sensible  bearing  towards  the  laws  of 
health  and  life  which  experience  teaches.  We 
have  a  proverb  which  says  that  a  man  at  forty 
will  be  either  a  fool  or  a  physician,  with  the  evi- 
dent thought  that  by  that  time  he  ought  to  have 
learned  the  simple  elementary  rules  of  health. 
The  trouble  is  that  then  it  is  often  too  late,  or  at 
least  mischief  is  done  which  hampers  a  man  all 
his  life.  No  one  in  these  days  has  any  excuse 
for  ignorance  of  the  common  practical  rules  of 
health.  There  are  many  popular  medical  books 
on  the  subject,  such  as  the  primers  published  by 
the  Society  for  Promoting  Christian  Knowledge, 
Health  Series.  Herbert  Spencer  deals  with 
the  subject  in  connection  with  children  in  his 
Education,  and  there  are  various  manuals  of 
hygiene  which  give  much  good  practical  advice 
on  the  management  of  the  body. 

Napoleon     in     one     of     his     letters     quoted 
Fontenelle's  saying  that  the  two  great  qualities 


CULTURE   OF   BODY  47 

necessary  to  live  long  were  a  good  body  and  a 
bad  heart,  the  sort  of  cynical  remark  which 
appeals  to  the  coarse-grained  man  who  makes  an 
idol  of  mere  success  and  defines  success  in  terms 
of  selfishness.  We  can  extract  the  sting  out  of 
the  saying  and  accept  the  manifest  truth  it  con- 
tains, namely,  that  health  is  a  condition  of  real 
efficiency,  enabling  a  man  to  do  his  work  and  ex- 
pend himself  freely  in  the  various  lines  in  which 
his  energy  runs.  We  see  at  once  that  any  work 
which  requires  delicacy  of  touch  or  accuracy  of 
calculation  or  even  special  energy  needs  a  basis 
of  health.  In  general  life,  commercial,  political, 
social,  the  qualities  most  prized  of  initiative  and 
enterprise  and  resourcefulness,  all  indeed  that  we 
sum  up  under  the  head  of  practical  capacity,  have 
their  roots  in  health  and  strength.  '  For  perform- 
ance of  great  mark  it  needs  bodily  health,'  says 
Emerson.  '  Sickness  is  poor-spirited  and  cannot 
serve  any  one ;  it  must  husband  its  resources  to 
live.' 

To  say  that  health  is  a  condition  of  a  man's 
efficiency  is  more  than  to  say  that  it  will  probably 
lead  to  success  in  his  business.  It  should  help  to 
make  him  a  man  of  a  more  all-round  character, 
since  character  is  formed,  as  Goethe  says,  in  the 


48  CULTURE  OF   BODY 

stream  of  the  world.  Of  course  there  have  been 
exceptions.  Many  men  have  done  magnificent 
work  who  have  been  handicapped  by  a  delicate 
constitution,  but  they  would  be  the  first  to  admit 
that  it  has  been  a  handicap.  They  could  not 
enter  the  race  on  fair  terms.  It  is  worth  while 
remembering  the  exceptions,  if  only  for  the  sake 
of  those  who  know  that  they  are  not  like  Samson 
for  strength,  and  who  may  have  to  contend 
against  much  weakness.  Even  here,  wise  care 
will  enable  one  to  get  through  much  work,  and 
will  even  build  up  a  fairly  comfortable  margin  of 
strength.  Gibbon,  who  had  very  weak  health  in 
youth,  tells  us  in  his  Memoirs  that  his  constitu- 
tion was  so  feeble  and  his  life  so  precarious  that 
in  the  baptism  of  each  of  his  brothers  his  father's 
prudence  successively  repeated  the  Christian 
name  of  Edward,  that  in  the  case  of  the  departure 
of  the  eldest  son  this  name  might  be  still  per- 
petuated in  the  family.  Till  he  was  nearly  six- 
teen he  was  a  most  delicate  boy,  but  thereafter 
his  constitution  became  fortified,  and  all  the  world 
knows  how  much  he  was  enabled  to  perform  in  his 
life,  largely  because,  as  he  says,  he  never  possessed 
or  abused  the  insolence  of  health.  Something  of 
the  same  is  true  of  Julius  Caesar,  of  Calvin,  and  of 


CULTURE   OF    BODY  49 

many  other  great  men  who  triumphed  over  much 
weakness  of  body.  It  is  proof  of  the  supremacy 
of  the  soul  that  the  sick  body  can  sometimes 
be  made  to  do  its  bidding.  But  even  if  the  sick- 
ness does  not  bring  some  taint  of  the  morbid  or 
perverse,  that  bidding  would  be  done  more  easily 
and  perfectly  under  conditions  of  health. 

Charles  Kingsley  with  his  healthy  body  and 
sane  mind  taught  his  generation  a  useful  lesson 
to  treat  the  physical  side  of  life  wisely  and 
reasonably.  He  himself  attributed  part  of  his 
success  at  Eversley  to  the  natural  and  easy  way 
he  could  be  all  things  to  all  men  —  could  swing  a 
flail  with  the  threshers  in  a  barn,  turn  his  swathe 
with  the  mowers  in  a  meadow,  pitch  hay  with 
the  haymakers  in  the  pasture,  as  well  as  show 
sympathy  with  all  manly  sports.  In  a  letter 
from  Eversley  he  declares  that  there  has  always 
seemed  to  him  something  impious  in  the  neglect 
of  personal  health,  strength,  and  beauty,  which 
some  religious  people  of  his  day  affected.  'I 
could  not  do  half  the  little  good  I  do  here  if  it 
were  not  for  that  strength  and  activity  which 
some  consider  coarse  and  degrading.  How 
merciful  God  has  been  in  turning  all  the  strength 
and  hardihood  I  gained  in  snipe-shooting  and 


50  CULTURE  OF   BODY 

hunting,   and   rowing,   and  jack-fishing   in   those 
magnificent  fens  to  His  work.' 

Apart  from  efficiency  in  work,  mental  and 
moral  qualities  are  affected  when  the  state  of 
the  body  is  abnormal.  As  on  the  one  hand 
self-indulgence  produces  slackness  of  fibre  both 
physical  and  mental,  so  bodily  states  influence 
our  higher  capacities  and  colour  our  views. 
Moral  qualities  cannot  be  dissociated  from 
physical  results.  The  most  intellectual  life,  or 
the  most  spiritual  life,  proceeds  upon  a  physical 
basis.  In  a  word,  life  is  a  unity;  and  if  the 
materialist  makes  a  fatal  error  in  leaving  soul 
out  of  account,  so  the  spiritualist  makes  a  fatal 
error  if  he  leaves  body  out  of  account.  '  Conceit 
in  weakest  bodies  strongest  works,'  says  Shake- 
speare. Morbid  or  capricious  judgments  about 
things  are  more  likely  to  be  had  from  the  men  of 
irritable  nerves,  than  from  the  robust  and  whole- 
some nature.  Not  that  all  deep-chested  and 
strong  men  must  be  models  of  wisdom,  nor  that 
any  who  cannot  come  up  to  the  standard  of  a 
health  inspector  can  have  no  chance  to  become 
wise.  Here  too  there  have  been  many  exceptions 
on  both  sides.  Pascal  was  always  a  weakling, 
and  even  made  himself  more  so  by  his  religious 


CULTURE   OF   BODY  51 

austerities ;  and  to  many  a  man  pain  has  been 
a  school  of  the  profoundest  wisdom.  We  must 
remember  that  it  is  always  easy  to  overrate  the 
physical.  It  is  the  first  thing  we  note  and  the  one 
thing  we  can  easily  mark.  Some  of  the  noblest 
men  have  been  among  the  class  of  invalids. 
Some  of  the  finest  specimens  physically  have 
been  among  the  meanest  and  basest.  Sympathy, 
tenderness,  and  insight  have  come  to  many  a 
man  through  suffering;  and  nothing  is  so  irri- 
tating as  the  easy  and  joyous  platitudes  of  the 
deep-chested  type  who  have  never  known  any 
sort  of  pain  or  tribulation.  Many  a  man  has 
been  able  to  say  with  the  Psalmist,  'It  is  good 
for  me  that  I  have  been  afflicted  that  I  might 
learn  Thy  statutes.' 

At  the  same  time,  speaking  in  general  terms 
on  this  subject,  we  must  stand  for  a  sane  and 
wholesome  physical  nature  as  the  ideal,  from 
which  at  least  to  expect  a  well-developed 
character.  The  old  adage  is  a  true  one,  Mens 
sana  in  corpore  sano.  The  highest  functions  of 
life  can  only  be  adequately  performed  in  health. 
Perhaps  there  never  was  more  necessity  for  the 
enforcement  of  this  truth  than  to-day,  when  such 
multitudes  live  in  cities,  and  when  so  much 


52  CULTURE  OF   BODY 

of  our  work  is  of  a  sedentary  or  confining 
character.  The  ever-increasing  demands  of  in- 
dustry make  a  drain  on  all  the  resources  of  our 
life,  and  ask  for  complete  fitness  not  only  in 
body  and  mind,  but  also  in  the  subtler  region  of 
character,  and  we  cannot  afford  to  neglect  any 
element  that  makes  for  efficiency. 

This  is  often  treated  as  if  there  were  some  sort 
of  degradation  in  admitting  that  so  much  of  the 
higher  reaches  of  life  depend  on  such  trivial 
things  as  exercise  and  the  right  management  of 
the  body  generally.  Rather,  we  should  take  it 
as  an  evidence  of  the  sacredness  of  all  parts  of 
our  nature.  If  we  are  wise  we  will  accept  the 
fact  of  the  relation  of  body  to  the  highest  life, 
and  will  treat  it  accordingly.  It  will  help  us  to 
solve  some  of  the  practical  problems  we  all  meet 
in  the  conduct  of  life  —  the  whole  question  of  re- 
creation and  amusement,  for  example. 

Some  sort  of  recreation  is  necessary  in  the 
interests  not  merely  of  the  body  itself  but  of  the 
whole  man.  The  bow  must  be  unstrung  if  it  is 
to  retain  its  elasticity.  For  the  mind's  own  sake 
there  must  be  diversion,  and  while  variety  of 
mental  work  itself  gives  some  diversion,  yet  the 
most  complete  recreation  for  all  whose  work  is 


CULTURE   OF   BODY  53 

sedentary  and  intellectual  is  some  form  of  physical 
exercise.  Per  contra,  the  best  recreation  to  those 
whose  work  is  largely  manual  consists  in  some 
intellectual  pursuit.  Not  only  is  it  the  best,  but 
it  is  absolutely  necessary  if  a  man  is  to  retain 
the  highest  qualities  of  his  manhood.  The  most 
effective  recreation  is  certainly  that  which  is  in 
contrast  to  our  regular  employment.  Every  one 
will  admit  that  a  moderate  amount  of  exercise  in 
the  open  air  is  good  for  body  and  mind.  The 
encouragement  of  athletics  given  to-day  in 
schools,  by  the  press,  and  by  the  whole  tone  of 
public  opinion,  is  in  some  respects  a  good  sign  of 
the  times.  We  may  have  grave  doubts  about  the 
'cult  of  the  arena,'  where  thousands  of  people 
crowd  together  round  a  field  to  watch  a  select 
number  of  professionals  perform  in  a  game ; 
though  even  that  is  not  to  be  indiscriminately 
condemned,  as  there  are  many  more  unhealthy 
ways  in  which  masses  of  our  young  men  could 
spend  some  of  their  leisure  time.  Outdoor  pur- 
suits and  open-air  sports  have  their  legitimate 
place  and  do  something  to  preserve  the  national 
efficiency  we  hear  so  much  about.  Physical 
exercise  and  fresh  air  will  increase  and  preserve 
the  health  and  happiness  of  our  town  populations. 


54 


CULTURE   OF   BODY 


A  man  who  is  physically  fit  is  surely  all  the 
better  citizen.  No  sensible  man  would  like  to 
reduce  the  opportunities  in  this  line  open  to  our 
clerks  and  artisans. 

We  are  coming  even  to  see  how  qualities  that 
may  be  classed  as  moral  may  be  encouraged  in 
children  by  their  very  games.  The  most  popular 
games  for  boys  have  been  recognized  as  doing 
more  than  giving  opportunities  for  health.  They 
teach  lessons  that  may  well  be  called  moral,  self- 
reliance  and  yet  self-restraint,  good  temper  in  de- 
feat and  moderation  in  victory,  steady  resolution, 
and  the  value  of  combination.  The  perseverance 
and  energy  and  generosity  which  games  can 
teach  boys  make  no  small  contribution  to  their 
training  for  life.  The  value  of  drill  to  boys  is 
something  more  than  the  mere  physical  training 
received  by  it.  It  is  calculated  to  awaken  a  sense 
of  comradeship,  and  with  it  a  subordination  to  the 
good  of  others.  It  teaches  habits  of  self-control 
and  thoroughness  and  exactness,  and  helps  to  root 
out  the  inborn  tendency  of  what  Rudyard  Kipling 
calls  'doing  things  rather  more  or  less.' 

This  ideal  of  physical  culture  is  a  far-reaching 
principle,  which  should  have  great  results  both 
for  the  personal  and  for  the  social  life.  It  is  at 


CULTURE  OF  BODY  55 

the  basis  of  all  education,  and  the  sooner  and  the 
more  completely  we  recognise  this,  the  better  will 
it  be  for  our  social  conditions.  The  rules  for  the 
care  of  children  are  in  a  sense  well  enough  known, 
but  the  observance  of  them  is  not  in  keeping  with 
our  knowledge.  They  are  —  plenty  of  good  air, 
simple  food,  suitable  clothing  according  to  the  sea- 
son, and  enough  exercise.  The  most  important  of 
these,  because  it  is  the  one  most  neglected,  is  the 
first,  which  really  in  a  sense  includes  the  last. 
The  way  in  which  otherwise  sensible  people 
poison  children  by  stuffy  houses  and  musty 
schools  is  past  speech.  How  can  we  expect 
children  to  be  bright  of  intellect  in  deadly  school- 
rooms full  of  impure  air  ?  With  a  little  more 
wisdom  also  the  demands  of  education  could  be 
made  to  harmonise  better  with  a  child's  physical 
fitness,  taking  care  that  the  nervous  system  is 
not  exhausted ;  and  better  methods  of  education 
could  be  introduced,  with  less  cramming  and 
other  stupid  ways  in  which  vanity  encourages 
infant  precocity.  If  parents  and  teachers  fully 
realise  how  mental  states  are  affected  by  physical 
health,  there  will  be  less  of  the  unreasonable 
chastisement,  which  made  Rousseau  say  when 
writing  about  it  after  fifty  years  that  the  memory 


56  CULTURE  OF  BODY 

made  his  pulse  quicken  still.  This  ideal  of 
physical  culture  must  take  a  larger  place  in 
all  legislation,  and  through  it  the  standard  of 
health  for  the  community  will  be  raised.  It  will 
mean  an  increased  importance  to  be  attached 
to  the  physical  well-being  of  all  the  people,  in 
conditions  of  labour,  in  housing  of  the  working 
classes,  in  facilities  for  recreation,  in  opportunities 
for  leisure. 

At  the  same  time,  while  we  gladly  admit  the 
importance  of  all  this  side  of  life,  we  must  take 
care  that  athletics  do  not  take  an  undue  place, 
as  if  they  were  an  end  in  themselves  and  not 
just  a  means  to  something  larger.  The  mere 
idolatry  of  muscle  that  is  so  common  in  many 
quarters  is  anything  but  a  good  sign  of  the 
times,  and  is  of  a  piece  with  the  view  of  life 
which  eliminates  the  spiritual.  One  must 
make  allowance  for  the  boyish  crazes  which 
pass  over  a  community,  when  every  youth 
spends  long  time  solemnly  examining  his 
biceps  :  and  one  must  also  make  allowance  for 
the  youthful  enthusiasm  which  makes  a  hero 
of  the  captain  of  the  football  team  —  and  very 
often  he  is  a  hero  in  school  life.  But  the 


CULTURE  OF   BODY  57 

danger  to  which  we  refer  has  much  more  wide- 
spread roots  than  that.  A  considerable  section 
of  our  people  is  taken  up  with  sports  and  games. 
These  seem  to  be  the  first  thing  in  their  lives. 
Bodily  exercise  is  made  to  profit  everything  ; 
and  if  you  take  that  away  there  is  practically 
nothing  left.  The  things  of  the  intellect  and 
the  things  of  the  soul  have  little  or  no  place; 
and  even  the  things  of  ordinary  business  suffer. 
At  least  employers  sometimes  say  that  with 
some  of  their  young  men,  the  one  important 
thing  is  their  sport  —  football,  or  baseball,  or  golf. 
From  what  has  preceded  in  this  chapter,  it  will 
be  understood  that  nothing  here  is  written  with 
sour  and  narrow  prejudices,  which  would  con- 
demn such  innocent  and  even  necessary  recrea- 
tion. But  it  is  a  poor  life  which  has  no  deeper 
and  higher  concern.  If  we  get  the  right  per- 
spective, bodily  exercise  will  fall  into  its  true 
and  legitimate  place.  Its  place  is  to  give  a 
perfect  instrument  for  the  play  of  our  higher 
energies.  It  was  never  meant  that  a  man  with 
all  his  Godlike  endowments  should  spend  all  on 
the  outside  of  life,  with  no  interests  above  the 
body  and  the  things  of  the  body.  The  mere 
athlete,  however  highly  trained,  is  an  incom- 


S8  CULTURE  OF   BODY 

plete  person.  Said  Epictetus,  « It  is  a  sign  of  a 
nature  not  finely  tempered  to  give  yourself  up  to 
things  which  relate  to  the  body  ;  to  make  a  great 
fuss  about  exercise,  about  eating,  about  drinking, 
about  walking,  about  riding.  All  these  things 
ought  to  be  done  by  the  way ;  the  formation  of 
the  spirit  and  character  must  be  our  real  con- 
cern.' 1  Some  of  us  make  a  great  fuss  about 
such  things,  and  have  no  time  or  thought  for 
anything  else.  Bodily  exercise  does  profit  for 
some  things,  but  it  has  its  limits,  and  the  limits 
are  soon  reached. 

In  itself  it  cannot  even  save  the  physical  life ; 
for  our  nature  is  a  unity,  and  each  part  suffers 
from  loss  elsewhere.  If  it  is  true  that  a  healthy 
body  influences  mind  and  soul  for  good,  it  is 
also  true  that  a  healthy  mind  has  its  good  effect 
on  the  very  body.  Goodness  is  profitable  for 
all  things,  for  the  body  as  for  the  soul,  for  the 
life  that  now  is  as  well  as  for  the  life  that  is  to 
come.  This  is  no  theory  merely,  but  a  well- 
established  fact  of  experience.  A  happy  mood 
of  mind,  a  sweet  and  simple  piety,  a  generous 
desire  to  help  and  serve  others,  will  encourage 
and  strengthen  health  in  ourselves.  Faith  re- 

1  v.  Matthew  Arnold,  Culture  and  Anarchy ',  chap.  I. 


CULTURE   OF   BODY  59 

news  youth  like  the  eagle.  The  merry  heart 
maketh  a  cheerful  countenance.  Peace  of  mind, 
a  good  conscience,  a  gentle,  generous,  unselfish 
heart  are  all  great  elements  of  health,  just  as 
anger  and  excessive  grief  and  hatred  tend  to 
destroy  vitality.  If  we  would  be  true  and  com- 
plete men,  we  must  have  another  sort  of  exercise 
in  addition  to  any  physical  training.  Plato,  who 
made  so  much  of  the  necessity  of  bodily  training, 
says,  '  Excessive  care  of  body  beyond  the  rules 
of  gymnastic  is  most  inimical  to  the  practice 
of  virtue,'  and  after  all,  his  interest  in  the  one 
was  because  of  his  concern  for  the  other.  We 
must  consider  more  than  health,  if  we  would 
fulfil  the  end  of  our  being.  We  must  aim  at 
true  proportional  development,  which  will  some- 
times demand  the  good  of  the  whole,  even  at 
some  self-sacrifice  in  the  region  of  the  physical. 
We  must  exercise  the  higher  part  of  our  nature, 
and  most  of  all  must  give  scope  to  the  highest 
part  of  all.  There  is  a  gymnastic  which  must 
take  precedence.  Noble  and  virtuous  life  — 
not  bodily  development,  nor  even  mental  culture 
by  itself,  nor  happiness  —  is  our  being's  end 
and  aim.  Without  this  we  are  stunted  and 
dwarfed,  never  attaining  what  we  ought  to 


60  CULTURE  OF   BODY 

become,  never  approaching  the  stature  of  the 
perfect  man.  No  development  in  the  lower 
reaches  of  life  can  make  up  for  failure  in  the 
higher.  Bodily  exercise  cannot  profit  for  every- 
thing, and  can  at  the  best  profit  only  for  a  little. 
By  itself  it  leaves  a  man  one-sided  and  distorted. 
Its  true  place  is  to  cultivate  the  body  as  an  instru- 
ment for  a  complete  character.  Even  when  we 
follow  after  lower  things  and  give  our  hearts 
to  unworthy  aims,  we  know  that  goodness  alone 
counts  :  we  know  that  the  men  and  women  who 
truly  succeed  in  life,  are  those  who  succeed  here. 
However  much  we  may  be  spending  our  strength 
for  that  which  profiteth  not,  we  know  in  our  heart 
of  hearts  that  goodness  alone  is  profitable  for  all 
things  and  for  all  worlds. 

The  right  view  of  this  subject  will  only  be 
reached  by  laying  firm  hold  of  the  principle 
which  runs  through  this  book,  of  the  unity  of 
the  personal  life.  The  body  must  be  treated  as 
an  integral  part  of  human  nature,  not  as  a  foe 
to  all  that  is  best  in  man,  a  foe  to  be  buffeted 
'  and  kept  under.  The  true  relation  of  the  body 
to  the  higher  life  of  mind  and  soul  is  not  one  of 
mutual  antagonism.  To  think  of  man  as  pure 


CULTURE   OF   BODY  61 

spirit,  even  in  theory,  is  folly,  and  leads  to  endless 
error.  Even  the  abstract  separation  of  spiritual 
and  material  can  serve  no  useful  purpose,  and 
must  always  incur  some  serious  dangers.  It  is 
futile  to  regard  the  bodily  functions  as  something 
quite  apart  from  the  mental  functions,  as  it  is 
futile  to  speak  of  our  personality  as  if  it  had  no 
intimate  connection  with  the  body.  We  have  large 
evidence  of  the  inter-relation  of  mind  and  body, 
the  reaction  on  each  other  of  moral  and  physical 
states.  This  close  connection  is  admitted,  though 
even  now  we  do  not  give  it  its  full  weight  in 
affecting  conduct.  Though  we  may  make  distinc- 
tions in  our  nature  for  convenience  of  speech,  yet 
these  distinctions  are  largely  artificial.  We  can- 
not cut  up  the  being  of  man  in  sections,  as  if 
there  could  be  an  intellectual  life  that  had  no  basis 
in  the  physical,  or  as  if  there  could  be  a  life  of  the 
soul  with  no  relation  to  the  life  in  the  flesh. 

If  we  have  such  a  conception  of  unity  in  our 
nature,  it  follows  that  we  can  leave  no  part  of 
man  outside  our  consideration,  as  if  it  did  not 
count.  Education  is  seen  to  be  more  than  a  mere 
brain  development;  it  is  the  total  forming  of  a 
human  being,  physical,  intellectual,  moral,  and 
spiritual.  It  is,  no  doubt,  sometimes  humiliating 


62  CULTURE   OF   BODY 

to  us  to  feel  how  much  we  are  affected  by  our 
physical  state.  It  makes  us  almost  despise  our- 
selves, bound  as  we  seem  to  be  to  the  body  of 
this  death.  But  for  good  or  ill  it  is  so.  All 
divisions  of  man's  nature  must  be  confessedly 
inexact.  All  talk  about  religion  being  of  the 
soul,  and  sin  having  its  seat  in  the  body,  is  false. 
The  body  in  itself  is  morally  neutral  and  colour- 
less. All  sins  of  the  flesh  are  sins  of  the  soul. 
We  may  locate  the  manifestation,  but  the  evil  is 
deeper  than  the  surface.  To  parcel  out  the 
nature  of  man  in  the  common  way,  to  separate 
the  body  from  the  soul  except  in  a  popular  and 
general  fashion,  invariably  ends  in  error  accord- 
ing to  which  side  the  stress  is  laid 

On  the  one  side  it  becomes  rank  materialism, 
which  places  life  frankly  on  a  physical  basis. 
Virtue,  if  it  is  taken  into  account  at  all,  is  re- 
solved into  health  of  body  merely.  It  means  the 
virtual  denial  of  the  soul.  Now,  this  practical 
materialism  owes  its  place  and  power  to  a 
natural  protest  against  a  false  mysticism.  It  is 
only  of  modified  value  even  as  a  protest  ;  for  it 
also  neglects  the  facts  of  human  life.  Man  is 
man  not  through  that  which  he  has  in  common 
with  animals,  but  that  which  distinguishes  him 


CULTURE   OF   BODY  63 

from  them.  It  asserts  the  great  truth  that 
wholesomeness  of  body  is  necessary  for  whole- 
someness  of  mind,  but  is  blind  to  the  converse 
truth  that  life  has  a  moral  as  well  as  a  physical 
basis. 

Extremes  meet.  Side  by  side  with  this 
materialistic  error,  and  due  to  the  same  initial 
mistake,  there  is  a  religious  error.  St.  Paul's 
metaphor  from  the  pugilistic  ring,  '  I  keep  my 
body  under,'  or  smite  it,  has  been  used  to  support 
all  the  mediaeval  ascetic  disciplines,  from  pillar- 
saints  and  flagellants  who  lashed  themselves  with 
whips,  down  to  the  milder  forms  of  self-torture, 
and  indeed  the  whole  Roman  monastic  system. 
It  is  stupidly  prosaic  to  interpret  the  words  in 
this  literal  way.  St.  Paul  was  no  doubt  thinking 
of  the  physical  hardships  which  he  had  endured, 
all  the  bodily  afflictions  that  had  been  laid  on 
him  in  the  course  of  his  great  work,  but  it  is  to 
be  noted  that  there  was  nothing  of  the  self- 
inflicted  kind  of  discipline  in  his  life.  When  he 
used  the  metaphor,  he  was  advocating  not  a 
system  of  penance,  but  the  need  of  self-control. 
The  root  of  this  religious  error  is  that  it  looks  on 
the  body  as  evil,  essentially  and  hopelessly  evil, 
and  the  only  chance  for  a  man  is  to  renounce 


64  CULTURE  OF  BODY 

it.  There  must  be  no  truce  in  the  great  warfare 
between  sense  and  soul.  Men  were  driven  into 
the  desert  to  starve  and  scourge  the  sinful  flesh 
that  the  spirit  might  thrive.  How  common  this 
notion  of  some  sort  of  self-torture  is  can  be  seen 
from  the  Lives  of  the  Saints.  So  much  so,  that 
the  special  religious  method  seems  to  be  self- 
torture.  They  keep  the  body  under  and  bring  it 
into  subjection,  buffet  it  like  the  boxers  in  the 
Isthmian  games.  The  ideal  seems  to  be  mutila- 
tion of  the  physical  powers,  that  the  life  may  be 
purified  by  pain,  and  sin  expiated  by  suffering. 
The  ideal  is  to  detach  the  affections  from  all  that 
is  of  the  earth,  though  the  roots  bleed  as  they  are 
torn  up,  to  pluck  out  the  right  eye,  and  cut  off 
the  right  hand.  The  method  seems  to  get  some 
support  from  the  example  and  the  teaching  of 
every  religious  genius  of  the  race. 

And  yet  the  method  throughout  the  whole 
history  of  the  world  has  been  a  ghastly  failure. 
Life  cannot  be  saved  by  a  process  of  eviction. 
The  untenanted  house  of  life  lies  open  for  seven- 
fold more  devils  to  inhabit.  It  is  a  mistake  to 
assume  that  the  best  way  to  strengthen  the 
higher  nature  is  to  weaken  the  lower,  and  that 
spiritual  life  will  grow  rich  and  strong  in  pro- 


CULTURE  OF  BODY  65 

portion  as  physical  vitality  is  lowered.  The 
body  is  part  of  man,  and  is  no  more  inherently 
sinful  than  is  the  mind  or  the  heart.  Indeed, 
our  Lord  in  His  diagnosis  of  sin  declared  that 
from  within,  from  the  heart  of  a  man,  proceed  the 
baneful  brood  of  sins.  Thus  it  follows  that  there 
may  be  the  complete  ascetic  discipline,  without 
touching  the  seat  of  sin  and  without  gaining  any 
real  mastery  over  the  life.  Our  physical  nature 
does  not  exist  merely  to  be  trampled  upon  and 
buffeted.  The  body  has  rights,  and  we  have 
duties  towards  it.  It  is  to  misrepresent  St.  Paul 
to  make  him  in  any  way  an  advocate  of  ascetic 
methods.  He  did  teach  self-control  and  self- 
denial,  as  every  religious  teacher  must  do,  but  he 
did  it  in  the  interests  of  the  self-reverence  which 
has  little  place  in  the  ascetic  creed.  The  folly  of 
thinking  that  it  does  not  matter  what  is  done 
to  the  body  is  too  evident  for  much  argument. 
After  all,  the  body  is  the  life-long  companion  of 
the  mind,  and  it  cannot  be  unimportant  how  it  is 
treated.  It  is  through  the  body  that  the  mind 
and  the  spirit  gather  their  stores  of  impressions, 
and  through  the  body  they  enact  their  will  and 
perform  their  functions.  Mental  vigour  and 
spiritual  insight  are  only  acquired  by  means  of 


66  CULTURE   OF    BODY 

the  physical  side  of  life.  Sometimes,  it  is  true, 
the  soul  seems  to  be  seen  most  brightly  shining 
through  the  chinks  of  a  weak  body,  but  never  if 
the  weakness  is  due  to  self-inflicted  injury. 

Repression,  as  a  mere  negative  method  of 
dealing  with  the  physical  life,  keeping  the  body 
under,  despising  it,  throttling  its  instincts,  cannot 
-  really  solve  the  problem.  Yet  it  must  be  asserted 
that  while  no  life  can  become  truly  great  by 
repression  alone,  also  no  life  can  become  great 
without  it.  We  never  can  get  away  from  the 
necessity  for  self-denial.  The  body  must  be 
brought  into  subjection,  and  a  foot  put  upon 
the  neck  of  all  animal  passion.  This  is  the 
eternal  truth  of  religious  discipline.  But  the 
distinction  between  this  and  the  ascetics  is 
simply  that  this  never  looks  upon  it  as  a  thing 
to  be  done  for  its  own  sake,  as  if  there  were 
any  merit  in  bodily  austerities,  while  the  ascetics 
make  repression  an  end  in  itself.  Self-control 
is  necessary  for  the  highest  development  of  the 
body  itself.  The  athlete  in  training  must  deny 
himself  ceaselessly :  if  he  does  not  deny  appetite 
he  cannot  bring  himself  into  fit  condition.  Much 
more  is  self-denial  necessary  for  spiritual  train- 
ing. The  soul  cannot  be  saved  with  self-denial 


CULTURE   OF   BODY  67 

merely,  yet  it  cannot  be  saved  without  it.  The 
mistake  of  the  ascetic  is  that  he  raises  into  an 
end  in  itself  what  should  only  have  a  place  as 
a  means.  Discipline  is  not  for  its  own  sake : 
it  is  needed  for  the  sake  of  the  body  as  well 
as  for  the  sake  of  the  soul.  True  bodily  culture 
implies  discipline  —  chastity,  temperance,  self- 
control.  Culture  means  harmonious  development, 
and  that  at  once  condemns  excess  of  all  kinds. 
All  moralists,  even  Epicurus,  admit  this.  The 
thought  at  the  root  of  self-culture  is  complete- 
ness, balance  of  powers ;  and  the  aim  is  total 
self-government.  One  unbridled  passion  is 
enough  to  destroy  the  beauty  of  life.  One 
excess,  if  it  does  no  more,  can  mar  the  grace 
and  harmony  of  the  whole.  '  He  that  striveth 
for  the  mastery  must  be  temperate  in  all  things.' 
He  will  need  to  be  watchful  at  the  weak  places, 
his  heart  knows  where;  watchful  at  the  points 
of  least  resistance.  Repression  and  self-denial 
there  must  always  be.  A  man,  to  be  a  man, 
must  have  his  nature  under  the  curb  and  must 
be  master  of  his  life. 

But  the  way  to  keep  the  body  under  is  to 
live  above  it,  to  have  a  life  of  the  soul  that 
will  use  the  body  as  its  willing  servant.  A 


68  CULTURE   OF   BODY 

deep  religious  sense  of  the  sacredness  of  life 
will  alone  give  us  the  adequate  motive  for  self- 
mastery.  Novalis  said  that  we  touch  heaven 
when  we  lay  our  hand  on  a  human  body,  re- 
ferring to  the  sacredness  of  man  as  the  image 
of  God.  The  Christian  faith  sets  new  sanctions 
on  the  physical  life.  It  is  opposed  both  to  the 
ascetic  hatred  and  despising  of  the  body  in  the 
affected  interests  of  spirituality,  and  equally 
opposed  to  weak  yielding  to  every  animal  im- 
pulse. The  body  is  sacred  and  must  be  treated 
sacredly.  We  must  feel  the  tremendous  moral 
motive  introduced  into  life  by  a  sense  of  the 
body's  high  destiny.  There  has  been  no  power 
for  personal  purity  like  it  in  the  history  of  the 
world.  The  Christian  method  is  not  repression, 
but  consecration. 


CULTURE   OF   MIND 


'Culture  is  as  necessary  for  the  mind  as  food  is  for  the 
body.1  —  CICERO. 


CHAPTER   III 

CULTURE  OF  MIND 

/T""*HE  aim  of  culture,  as  we  have  seen,  is  the 
•*-  perfected  development  of  the  whole  man. 
The  existence  of  a  power  or  capacity  implies  duty 
to  make  the  best  of  it.  A  sound  mind,  trained 
to  form  wise  judgments,  able  to  consider  serious 
subjects  and  to  reach  reasonable  conclusions,  is 
part  of  the  equipment  of  a  true  life,  and  may 
be  one  of  the  best  servants  of  religion.  Religion 
has  sometimes  distrusted  the  purely  intellectual 
way  of  looking  at  things,  and  with  cause  has 
opposed  the  arrogance  of  reason  claiming  the 
sole  right  of  judging.  But  not  even  the  most 
obscurantist  form  of  religion  can  deny  that  we 
possess  not  only  the  right  but  the  duty  to  strive 
after  education  of  mind.  It  must  be  the  will  of 
God  that  the  mental  faculties  should  be  trained 
and  developed.  It  cannot  possibly  be  right  to 
mutilate  the  powers  of  intellect  granted  to  us. 
To  despise  thought  is  not  only  foolish  but  sinful ; 
71 


72  CULTURE   OF   MIND 

for  thought  is  the  medium  of  all  truth.  Religion, 
so  far  from  despising  thought,  concerns  itself 
with  the  largest  thoughts  and  the  noblest  ideas 
that  can  enter  into  the  mind  of  man.  Know- 
ledge is  the  food  of  thought,  and  the  purpose 
of  all  religion  is  to  give  man  the  knowledge 
of  God.  The  greatest  foe  of  religion  is  not 
knowledge  but  ignorance,  not  reason  but  super- 
stition. '  My  people  are  destroyed  for  lack  of 
knowledge,'  says  the  prophet  Hosea — a  word 
that  is  echoed  in  all  the  prophets.  To  give 
up  reason  is  to  give  up  being  men.  More,  to 
give  up  reason  is  to  give  up  God ;  for  the  world 
is  built  on  reason. 

God  has  given  us  reason,  and  to  despise  the 
gift  is  to  despise  the  Giver.  If  we  are  required 
to  renounce  reason,  we  may  ask  why  we  should 
not  also  renounce  faith.  If  it  is  right  to  trample 
on  one  human  faculty,  there  can  be  no  inherent 
objection  to  trample  on  other  faculties.  If  reason 
can  be  rightly  sacrificed,  why  may  not  emotion, 
good  feeling,  charity?  Should  men  give  up 
tenderness  of  heart,  the  sacred  pity  that  makes 
the  world  a  gracious  place  ?  The  mind  is  lia- 
ble to  mistakes,  but  so  also  is  the  heart.  Men 
have  abused  pity  and  love  in  the  interests 


CULTURE   OF   MIND  73 

of  what  they  deemed  truth.  The  inquisitors 
must  some  of  them  have  made  a  painful  sacrifice 
of  their  humane  feelings,  and  yet  we  do  not 
defend  their  conduct.  No  plan  of  life  can  be 
a  true  or  complete  one,  which  does  not  give  a 
place  to  culture  of  the  mind.  A  perfect  scheme 
will  not  limit  itself  to  mental  education,  but  it 
cannot  neglect  it.  For  the  sake  of  the  mind 
we  cannot  neglect  the  body,  and  for  the  sake  of 
the  soul  we  dare  not  neglect  the  mind.  '  I  con- 
sider,' says  Addison,  'a  human  soul  without 
education  like  marble  in  the  quarry,  which  shows 
none  of  its  inherent  beauties  till  the  skill  of 
the  polisher  fetches  out  the  colours,  makes  the 
surface  shine,  and  discovers  every  ornamental 
cloud,  spot,  and  vein,  that  runs  through  the  body 
of  it.  Education  after  the  same  manner,  when 
it  works  upon  a  noble  mind,  draws  out  to  view 
every  latent  virtue  and  perfection,  which,  with- 
out such  helps,  are  never  able  to  make  their 
appearance.' 

The  first  danger  which  mental  education  meets 
is  due  to  the  fact  that  it  comes  second  in  time 
and  is  therefore  inclined  to  be  too  long  delayed. 
Perhaps  this  is  why  Plato,  in  his  conception  of 
the  ideal  republic,  makes  education  begin  with 


74  CULTURE   OF   MIND 

music,  which  in  his  definition  includes  literature, 
and  makes  gymnastics  come  later  —  music  for  the 
soul  and  gymnastics  for  the  body  —  and  the  soul 
first. 

'What  shall  be  their  education?  Can  we  find 
a  better  than  the  traditional  sort  ?  —  and  this  has 
two  divisions :  gymnastic  for  the  body,  and  music 
for  the  soul.' 

'  True.' 

'Shall  we  begin  education  with  music,  and  go 
on  to  gymnastic  afterwards  ? ' 

'By  all  means.' 

'  And  when  you  speak  of  music,  do  you  include 
literature  or  not  ? ' 

'  I  do.' 

'  You  know,'  I  said,  '  that  we  begin  by  telling 
children  stories  which,  though  not  wholly  desti- 
tute of  truth,  are  in  the  main  fictitious ;  and  these 
stories  are  told  them  when  they  are  not  of  an  age 
to  learn  gymnastics.' 

'  Very  true.' 

'That  was  my  meaning  when  I  said  that  we 
must  teach  music  before  gymnastics.' 1 

As  a  nation  our  progress  in  material  things  has 
outstripped  our  progress  in  intellectual,  and  as 

1  Republic,  ii.  376. 


CULTURE   OF   MIND  75 

individuals  physical  culture  comes  before  mental ; 
but  in  both  cases  the  former  should  only  be 
a  foundation  for  the  latter.  Most  young  men 
have  more  muscle  than  brains,  more  strength 
than  ideas  —  which  is  to  some  extent  natural. 
Some  few  have  to  be  warned  against  incessant 
mental  overwork,  but  on  the  whole  the  greater 
number  need  to  be  driven  on,  or  tempted  on,  to 
begin  serious  thought  of  any  kind. 

If  the  relation  of  education  to  the  mind  is  like 
that  of  food  to  the  body,  we  do  not  often  take 
anything  like  the  same  care  to  give  the  mind  its 
right  food  as  we  do  to  nourish  the  body.  Even 
in  the  matter  of  reading,  which  is  an  acknow- 
ledged instrument  of  mental  training,  it  is  seldom 
seriously  treated  as  such,  and  is  much  more 
commonly  used  as  a  means  merely  of  relaxing 
the  mind.  There  is  milk  for  babes  in  mental 
things  as  well  as  in  physical  and  spiritual,  and 
many  never  seem  to  find  any  need  for  stronger 
food.  The  powers  of  mind  can  be  atrophied  by 
want  of  use,  leaving  the  mind  wayward  and 
undisciplined.  We  must  learn  to  take  this  as 
part  of  our  religious  duty,  for  we  are  false  to 
our  complete  endowment  as  men  if  we  have  no 
sense  of  duty  here.  We  have  a  glorious  heritage, 


76  CULTURE   OF  MIND 

and  if  we  wilfully  refuse  our  opportunities  and 
cut  ourselves  off  from  the  inner  life  of  our  race 
we  are  impoverishing  ourselves.  It  is  never^  a 
small  thing  for  a  man  to  pass  under  the  influence 
of  the  master  minds,  to  feel  the  spell  of  the  rarer 
spirits  of  the  world,  to  come  within  the  human- 
ising sphere  of  great  writers  and  thinkers.  It  is 
much  to  be  saved  from  the  paltriness  and  sordid- 
ness  of  ordinary  life  by  the  infusion  of  intellectual 
tastes. 

We  are  called  to  undertake  cultivation  of  the 
rich  fields  of  life,  and  that  implies  the  care 
and  method  and  toil  of  the  husbandman.  The 
power  of  concentrated  thought  is  only  got 
through  long  sustained  use.  Reason  does  not 
come  by  spontaneous  generation  any  more  than 
life  does.  Reason  is  the  crown  of  intellect. 
The  'dry  light  of  reason,'  as  Bacon  calls  it,  is 
not  struck  off  as  a  spark  from  flint  and  steel. 
It  has  to  be  refined  and  super-refined,  and 
passed  through  rarer  and  rarer  media,  till  it 
becomes  a  light  dry,  and  clear,  and  pure,  fit 
to  examine  the  world  by.  Wisdom  is  know- 
ledge organised  into  life.  Even  the  more  evi- 
dent fruits  of  culture,  such  as  taste  for  what  is 
beautiful  and  true  in  art,  or  the  feeling  for 


CULTURE    OF   MIND  77 

style  in  literature,  are  capacities  which  come 
from  training,  and  at  last  almost  become  an 
instinct. 

Now,  the  same  natural  impulse  which  makes 
men  enjoy  exercise  of  body  makes  them  enjoy 
exercise  of  mind.  There  is  a  certain  innate 
sluggishness  to  be  overcome  at  first  in  both 
cases.  A  man  who  for  years  has  been  slack 
will  have  a  good  deal  of  inertia  to  overcome 
before  he  can  bring  himself  to  enjoy  even  mod- 
erate physical  exertion  —  but  it  can  be  done ; 
and  a  man  whose  mind  has  been  mostly  fallow 
ground  will  not  easily  take  to  the  mental 
plough  and  hoe ;  but  when  he  does  persevere 
he  will  find  the  natural  law  operate  on  his  side, 
the  law  which  ordains  joy  for  the  sweat  of  the 
brain  as  well  as  for  the  sweat  of  the  brow. 
It  is  no  lowering  of  the  standard  to  speak  of 
pleasure  in  intellectual  pursuits  ;  for  it  has  been 
ordained  that  the  legitimate  and  uncorrupted 
use  of  all  our  natural  powers  should  be  accom- 
panied with  pleasure.  And  the  higher  the 
power,  the  purer  the  pleasure,  as  if  to  tempt 
us  on  to  nobler  things.  The  pleasures  of  mind 
are  keener  and  more  lasting  than  the  more 
material  pleasures.  More  lasting;  so  the  young 


78  CULTURE  OF  MIND 

man  without  intellectual  interests  is  preparing 
himself  for  an  unhappy  old  age.  But  effort  is 
essential  before  pleasure  is  possible.  For  the 
athlete's  joy,  the  joy  of  a  strong  man  to  run  a 
race,  one  must  toil  terribly  in  the  training. 
For  the  scholar's  joy,  one  must  'scorn  delights 
and  live  laborious  days.' 

The  real  training  of  any  part  of  a  man's  being 
is  its  own  reward.  It  remains  a  possession.  In 
the  region  of  the  mind  we  recognise  a  cultured 
opinion  when  we  hear  it.  It  is  the  fruit  of 
thought,  the  result  of  a  broad  way  of  looking  at 
things.  It  is  not  a  trick  of  manner  to  be  caught 
by  watching,  but  comes  from  serious  effort  and 
honest  toil.  The  habit  of  exact  thought,  if  it 
is  to  be  a  habit  and  not  an  occasional  accident, 
is  only  got  through  discipline.  This  is'  not 
something  outside  religion.  Failure  here  is 
failure  to  grasp  the  religious  significance  of  all 
life.  Emerson  speaks  of  the  innocent  men  who 
worship  God  after  the  tradition  of  their  fathers, 
but  whose  sense  of  duty  has  not  extended  to  the 
use  of  all  their  faculties.  The  spirit's  work  on 
us  of  power  and  love  is  often  hindered  and 
marred  for  lack  of  the  sound  mind.  Most  of 
the  mistakes  of  sincere  religion  are  due  to  the 


CULTURE   OF   MIND  79 

lack  of  it.  All  the  instruments  of  religious 
deepening,  such  as  prayer,  praise,  meditation, 
need  this 'element  to  enrich  their  contents  and 
to  guide  their  direction.  St.  Paul  with  his 
vigorous,  robust  intellect  argued  against  an 
unintelligent  use  of  religious  gifts  among  the 
Corinthians.  '  If  I  pray  in  an  unknown  tongue, 
my  spirit  prayeth,  but  my  understanding  is 
unfruitful.  What  is  it  then  ?  I  will  pray  with 
the  spirit  and  I  will  pray  with  the  understand- 
ing also :  I  will  sing  with  the  spirit  and  I  will 
sing  with  the  understanding  also.'  As  for  our 
religious  meditation,  much  of  it  is  mere  idle 
dreaming  —  vacancy  of  mind,  not  thought.  We 
must  confess  to  ourselves  how  little  we  indulge 
in  the  habit  of  consecutive  thinking.  When  we 
give  ourselves  time  to  think  it  often  ends  in 
mere  vacuity,  or  we  discover  that  our  minds  have 
been  vagrant,  wandering  hither  and  thither  like 
a  stray  horse  without  bit  or  bridle.  What  we  call 
thinking  is  aimless  and  spasmodic,  developing 
nothing,  going  nowhere  in  particular ;  so  that 
after  a  time  of  meditation,  if  any  one  asked  us 
what  we  were  thinking  on,  we  would  have  to 
confess  that  we  did  not  really  know. 

Yet  what   traitors  we  are   to  our  race  by  our 


80  CULTURE   OF    MIND 

neglect !  We  hang  broken  branches  on  the 
tree  of  life,  examples  of  arrested  development ; 
for  the  physical  side  of  life  seems  to  have  come 
to  its  destined  end,  but  there  is  no  limit  to 
evolution  in  the  higher  spheres.  The  bounds 
of  knowledge  can  be  extended  infinitely.  In 
the  realm  of  nature,  in  the  world  of  thought, 
there  is  no  end  to  the  task  set  to  man.  That 
task  is  to  conquer  the  world  and  make  it  his 
own ;  not  merely  to  occupy  and  develop  its 
material  forces,  but  to  understand  it,  to  learn 
its  secrets  and  its  lessons.  It  is  humiliating  to 
think  how  little  we  have  made  the  world  our 
own  by  knowledge,  by  sympathy,  by  under- 
standing. To  few  of  us  come  opportunities  for 
original  research,  but  to  all  of  us  come  oppor- 
tunities for  exercising  our  minds  and  gaining 
power  to  make  true  judgments,  and  growing 
in  power  and  love  and  a  sound  mind.  We  need 
not  fear  in  the  interests  of  truth  reverent  inquiry, 
and  scholarship,  and  increase  of  knowledge. 
Rather,  we  have  to  fear  lethargy  of  mind,  intel- 
lectual and  moral  indifference,  the  materialistic 
life  which  judges  truth  by  utility,  and  which 
makes  utility  mean  increased  profit  or  pleasure. 
The  practical  benefits  in  life  of  a  cultivated 


CULTURE   OF   MIND  81 

mind  are  too  many  even  to  mention.  Foremost 
among  them  is  the  fact  that  thought  gives  a 
quality  of  abstraction  which  makes  the  little 
things  appear  little.  It  gives  a  fine  insight  into  the 
value  of  things  and  settles  their  relative  impor- 
tance, and  should  therefore  be  to  us  the  necessary 
corrective  of  our  common  commercial  standards. 
It  would  keep  us  from  the  vulgar  judgment  of 
men  according  to  rank  or  wealth,  and  from  the 
vulgar  judgment  of  things  which  sacrifices  beauty 
to  utility.  Intellectual  pursuits  will  at  least 
save  from  absolute  bondage  to  the  material 
side  of  life.  To  enlarge  the  number  of  our 
interests  creates  a  new  standard  of  judgment 
by  widening  the  whole  outlook.  It  would  be 
well  for  us  as  a  community,  as  well  as  in- 
dividuals, if  we  had  a  more  general  mental 
culture.  Questions  would  not  be  so  much 
settled  by  prejudice  and  party  passion.  We 
would,  for  example,  not  have  so  many  crude 
and  wayward  experiments  in  education ;  for  we 
would  see  education  to  be  the  great  question  of 
home  politics,  and  would  not  permit  it  to  be  the 
butt  of  party  and  the  game  of  sectarian  ambition. 
But  most  of  all  may  be  emphasised  to  young 
men  the  moral  value  of  intellectual  pursuits. 


82  CULTURE   OF   MIND 

If  we  would  keep  the  body  under,  we  must  live 
above  it,  and  that  means  practically  that  we 
must  have  interests  above  the  body.  It  is  not 
merely  that  a  man  may  thus  be  saved  from  the 
freakishness  and  follies  — 

Such  as  take  lodgings  in  a  head 
That's  to  be  let  unfurnished, 

but  he  will  also  to  a  large  extent  be  saved  from 
the  fierce  assaults  from  an  evil  environment  and 
from  his  own  evil  passions.  Purity  of  heart 
and  mind  is  not  a  negative  state :  it  is  an  active 
state  of  love  for  what  is  pure  and  true  and 
beautiful.  When  the  city  of  Mansoul  is  be- 
sieged and  the  fight  presses  sore,  we  dare  not 
leave  any  entrance  undefended ;  and  when  we 
are  hard  bestead  by  an  overmastering  sin,  a 
besetting  temptation,  one  strategical  move,  ap- 
proved of  by  all  masters  of  this  craft  of  war, 
is  that  we  must  not  be  content  to  strive  and 
pray  and  resolve :  we  must  garrison  the  mind 
with  noble  thoughts  and  pure  desires.  '  Not  the 
mouse  but  the  hole  is  the  thief,'  is  a  Talmudic 
proverb  condemning  the  receiving  and  purchasing 
of  stolen  goods.  Leave  not  a  hole  in  the  defence 
for  even  a  mouse  to  creep  in  at.  The  empty 
mind  is  the  devil's  opportunity.  Many  of  the 


CULTURE   OF   MIND  83 

sins  of  youth  get  their  force  through  emptiness  of 
mind  and  lack  of  any  sort  of  intellectual  interest. 
How  can  a  man  expect  to  be  saved  from  the  seduc- 
tions within  and  without,  if  he  have  no  higher 
resources,  if  he  have  no  interests  that  claim  his 
mind  when  his  daily  work  is  done  ?  Hugh 
Miller  in  My  Schools  and  Schoolmasters  tells 
how  he  was  able  to  pass  the  critical  point  in  his 
life  with  regard  to  the  huge  drinking-customs  of 
his  early  trade  as  a  mason.  The  men  were 
treated  on  all  sorts  of  occasions,  and  on  this 
special  time,  at  the  laying  of  the  foundation- 
stone  of  a  large  house,  they  were  all  treated  to 
whiskey ;  and  when  the  party  broke  up  and  he 
got  home  to  his  books,  he  found,  as  he  opened 
the  pages  of  a  favourite  author,  that  he  could 
not  master  the  sense,  and  the  letters  were 
dancing  before  his  eyes.  He  writes  :  '  I  have  the 
volume  at  present  before  me  —  a  small  edition 
of  the  Essays  of  Bacon,  a  good  deal  worn  at 
the  corners  by  the  friction  of  the  pocket ;  for 
of  Bacon  I  never  tired.  The  condition  into 
which  I  had  brought  myself  was,  I  felt,  one  of 
degradation.  I  had  sunk  by  my  own  act  for 
the  time  to  a  lower  level  of  intelligence  than 
that  on  which  it  was  my  privilege  to  be  placed  ; 


84  CULTURE   OF   MIND 

and  though  the  state  could  have  been  no  very 
favourable  one  for  forming  a  resolution,  I  in 
that  hour  determined  that  I  should  never  again 
sacrifice  my  capacity  of  intellectual  enjoyment 
to  a  drinking  usage ;  and  with  God's  help  I 
was  enabled  to  hold  by  the  determination.'  He 
conquered  by  his  love  of  intellectual  pursuits, 
and  his  experience  is  not  an  uncommon  one. 

In  our  next  chapter  we  will  deal  with  the 
practical  instruments  of  culture,  the  common 
means  of  attaining  this  elevation  of  mind ;  but 
in  pursuance  of  our  plan  of  treating  our  nature 
as  a  unity,  it  is  necessary  to  take  note  of  the 
serious  limits  to  the  claim  of  intellect  to 
dominate  life.  We  ought  to  admit  mental 
limitations  as  we  do  physical.  The  life  is  more 
than  meat,  and  it  is  also  more  than  mind. 
Exclusive  attention  to  mind  is  one-sided  and 
defeats  the  true  ends  of  culture.  The  life  has 
higher  functions  than  even  the  mental.  Even 
from  the  point  of  view  of  education,  brain  de- 
velopment is  not  everything.  Intellect,  for 
example,  can  harden  the  heart  as  effectually  as 
sense  can.  Intellect  needs  a  high  ideal  to  save 
it  from  itself.  It  must  be  in  the  service  of 


CULTURE   OF   MIND  85 

conscience  and  heart,  or  it  is  degraded  into  a 
mere  caterer  to  the  material  side  of  life.  In- 
tellectual selfishness  can  be  as  hard  and  cruel 
as  any  other  form  of  selfishness.  The  loftiest 
thoughts  and  the  most  intellectual  pursuits  will 
not  in  themselves  save  a  life  from  emptiness. 
If  any  one  lived  the  intellectual  life  almost  from 
his  very  infancy,  it  was  John  Stuart  Mill,  and 
yet  in  his  Autobiography  he  tells  us  how  futile 
he  found  it  even  in  early  life.  He  asked  him- 
self:  'Supposing  that  all  the  objects  of  your  life 
were  realised,  and  that  all  the  changes  in  human 
institutions  and  opinions  which  you  desire  were 
completely  accomplished  at  this  very  moment, 
would  it  be  for  you  a  great  joy  and  happiness? 
My  conscience  replied  to  me  directly  and 
irresistibly,  No.  At  this  response  my  heart 
failed  me ;  all  the  foundations  on  which  my  life 
was  built  were  destroyed.'  In  spite  of  know- 
ledge and  learning  and  gratified  intellectual 
ambition,  he  felt  the  poverty  and  vanity  of  a 
life  that  had  no  more  in  it  than  that.  The 
pathway  to  the  higher  life  is  not  through  the 
portals  of  mind.  The  mind  tempered  to  a  fine 
keenness  may  have  taken  on  a  hard,  cold  glitter. 
For  the  ordinary  conduct  of  life  there  comes 


86  CULTURE   OF   MIND 

into  play  other  elements  for  true  success.  Plato 
declared  that  those  countries  are  happy  where 
either  philosophers  are  made  kings  or  kings 
turn  philosophers.  Erasmus's  comment  on  this 
philosophical  dream  is,  '  Alas !  this  is  so  far 
from  being  true,  that  if  we  consult  all  historians 
for  an  account  of  past  ages,  we  shall  find  no 
princes  more  weak  nor  any  people  more  slavish 
and  wretched,  than  were  the  administrations  of 
affairs  which  fell  on  the  shoulders  of  some 
learned  bookish  governor.' 

In  our  own  personal  life  we  must  know  that 
there  is  an  intellectual  abstraction  which  is  only 
a  form  of  selfish  absorption.  The  worst  of  it  is, 
or  perhaps  in  the  long  run  the  best  of  it  is,  that 
such  selfishness  ruins  the  very  intellectual  capa- 
city itself ;  for  it  is  a  law  of  life  that  selfishness 
of  all  kinds  takes  the  edge  off  any  faculty. 
When  it  is  used  for  self  it  loses  its  brightness 
and  keenness.  The  history  of  all  the  arts  is  full 
of  pathetic  cases  of  failure  through  this.  When 
a  man  even  stops  in  his  work  to  admire  himself 
and  his  facility,  his  work  suffers  at  once.  We  at 
least  see  that  a  man  of  keen  intellect  has  his 
own  special  and  peculiar  temptations  to  face.  He 
may  be  freed  from  narrowness  of  vision,  and  at 


CULTURE   OF   MIND  87 

the  same  time  be  chained  by  narrowness  of  heart. 
The  lowest  deep  to  which  man  can  fall  is  a 
callous  state  in  which  the  mind  itself  seems  to 
become  stupid  even  when  it  is  keen  enough,  for 
it  seems  unable  even  to  distinguish  between  right 
and  wrong.  There  are  degrees  and  steps  on 
the  way  to  that  callous  state,  steps  all  the 
more  insidious  because  they  are  not  necessarily 
associated  with  gross  evil. 

One  of  them,  for  example,  is  that  of  a  false 
tolerance  often  assumed  to  be  a  highly  intel- 
lectual state  of  being.  There  is  a  breadth  of 
view  which  is  at  bottom  only  moral  laxity.  Life 
and  history  are  seen  as  a  blur,  a  grey  haze,  with 
the  moral  distinctions  rubbed  out.  The  way 
the  temptation  works  is  obvious.  History  and 
literature  show  human  life  governed  by  other 
customs  and  codes  of  morals  and  religion  in 
other  times,  and  even  now  in  other  countries. 
The  thought  easily  arises  that  nothing  can  be 
of  very  much  importance  when  there  is  such 
a  divergence  of  opinion  and  habit.  The  ideal 
seems  to  be  a  fine  broad  philosophic  calm  which 
accepts  everything  as  it  is  and  never  lets  itself 
get  excited  or  angry.  To  this  mood  of  mind  a 
massacre  in  Armenia  is  only  a  regrettable  inci- 


88  CULTURE  OF  MIND 

dent  in  history,  at  the  worst  merely  a  backwash 
in  the  tide.  Not  so  thinks  or  speaks  the  man 
who  has  gone  down  and  kissed  the  very  founda- 
tions of  life,  who  has  the  sound  mind  enlightened 
by  the  Spirit  of  Christ.  '  All  cats  are  grey  in 
the  dark,'  says  the  proverb.  There  are  no  dis- 
tinctions to  the  man  who  lives  in  a  mental  and 
moral  twilight  and  is  incapable  of  seeing  distinc- 
tions. Much  of  our  broad,  cultured  tolerance  is 
merely  the  fruit  of  indifference.  We  have  not 
seen  life  steadily  or  seen  it  whole,  if  we  end  in  a 
helpless  state  of  indecision  in  moral  things. 

The  truth  is  that  in  the  region  of  mind,  as  else- 
where, sacrifice  is  the  law  of  life.  The  necessity 
of  self-denial  is  not  limited  to  bodily  passions, 
it  is  as  much  needed  for  the  highest  life  of  the 
mind  as  for  the  best  development  of  the  body. 
In  every  region  of  man's  nature  there  are  two 
voices  with  opposing  counsels  presenting  divers 
alternatives.  The  one  demands  satisfaction,  the 
other  sacrifice,  but  though  the  voices  seem  hope- 
lessly discordant,  there  is  not  such  an  absolute 
contradiction  between  the  two  rival  claimants  as 
might  be  imagined.  In  practice  it  is  found  that 
in  the  very  interests  of  culture  self-denial  is 
necessary.  Life  of  all  kinds  is  only  reached  by 


CULTURE  OF  MIND  89 

a  strait  gate  and  a  narrow  way.  '  Thought,  true 
labour  of  any  kind,  highest  virtue  itself,  is  it  not 
the  daughter  of  pain  ? '  asks  Carlyle.  Sacrifice  is 
always  the  method  of  salvation.  This  is  not  to 
say  that  through  restraint  of  mind  some  ultimate 
spiritual  good  will  result,  but  that  only  through 
it  can  intellectual  good  result.  The  benefit  first 
of  all  is  reaped  in  its  own  sphere.  The  athlete 
must  practise  restraint  of  body  to  attain  the 
highest  training  of  body.  He  must  deny  himself 
many  sorts  of  indulgence,  must  regulate  carefully 
his  food  and  exercise  and  sleep,  must  practise 
self-control,  temperance  in  all  things,  abstinence 
in  some.  It  is  physical  control  for  the  sake  of 
physical  training.  This  is  an  essential  condition, 
and  what  is  true  here  is  true  in  the  rest  of  life. 
Discipline  is  needed  for  all  education,  and  dis- 
cipline implies  self-denial.  The  result  of  this 
discipline  is  to  put  a  keener  edge  on  the  instru- 
ment. An  undisciplined  mind  is  wayward  and 
fitful,  easily  lured  by  fancies  and  conceits,  run- 
ning off  at  a  tangent,  the  sport  of  idle  curi- 
osity and  prurient  desire.  Mental  self-control 
is  as  necessary  as  physical.  The  mind  must 
not  be  left  to  itself  for  its  own  sake.  It  needs 
to  be  brought  into  some  sort  of  submission,  or 


go  CULTURE   O*    MIND 

it  will   run  to  waste,  even  if  it  does  not  run  to 
evil. 

Further,  it  must  not  be  left  to  itself  for  the 
sake  of  the  higher  life,  for  the  sake  of  the  whole 
man.  We  must  often  choose  between  the 
different  powers  and  instincts  we  possess :  to 
select  means  to  reject  and  to  repress.  The 
practical  principle  of  choice  is  a  simple  one.  In 
cases  of  casuistry  we  must  choose  the  higher.  A 
man  is  known  by  the  way  he  chooses  in  possible 
alternatives.  If  to  a  man  life  is  meat,  he  will 
always  follow  the  material.  If  to  another,  mind 
be  the  measure  of  life,  he  can  be  coldly  intel- 
lectual when  his  heart  should  burn  with  the 
passion  of  pity,  but  at  least  he  is  saved  from 
utter  bondage  to  the  body.  It  is  to  him  no 
sacrifice  except  in  name  to  give  up  some  lower 
pleasure  for  the  sake  of  a  loved  intellectual 
pursuit.  Something  in  any  case  has  to  be  given 
up  for  it.  When  we  speak  of  sacrifice  we  forget 
that  sacrifice  of  some  kind  or  other  there  must 
always  be.  Everything  in  the  world  has  its 
price.  To  gain  the  lower  completely  we  must 
give  up  the  higher;  to  gain  the  higher  we  must 
give  up  the  lower.  If  we  sow  to  the  flesh,  it  is 
only  of  the  flesh  we  can  reap.  Therefore  to 


CULTURE   OF  MIND  91 

speak  of  restraint  of  the  mind,  of  sacrificing 
mental  powers  and  opportunities,  is  not  to  re- 
commend an  unnatural  and  unheard-of  thing. 
It  is,  indeed,  along  the  line  of  all  law.  It  is 
sacrificed  for  the  sake  of  something  we  hold 
dearer.  If  a  man  has  seen  the  vision  of  the 
spiritual,  in  giving  up  the  lower  he  is  only  grasp- 
ing his  true  life.  There  are  times  when  a  man 
may  have  to  renounce  thought  as  a  guide  because 
human  life  may  still  be  cursed  by  the  hell  of  a 
'reprobate  mind.'  There  are  things  a  man  must 
believe,  with  or  without  reason,  if  need  be  against 
reason ;  because  there  are  things  a  man  must 
believe  to  remain  a  man.  Intellect  by  itself  will 
not  save  life  from  failure.  There  is  a  touch  of 
terrible  truth  in  Robert  Burns's  despairing  line 
about  '  a  light  from  heaven  that  leads  astray.1 
We  speak  glibly  of  the  certainties  of  knowledge 
and  the  absoluteness  of  truth.  It  is  not  so  easy 
to  state  the  certainties.  Again  and  again  in 
history  has  it  been  seen  that  God  hath  made 
foolish  the  wisdom  of  this  world.  What  in- 
stances there  are  of  the  great  revelations  being 
hid  from  the  wise  and  prudent  and  revealed  unto 
babes,  because  proud,  loveless  learning  only 
hardens  the  heart.  After  all,  life  is  not  fudged 


92  CULTURE  OF  MIND 

by  mind  ;  mind  is  judged  by  life.  Mental  culture 
must  be  kept  in  its  place  in  the  great  scheme  of 
general  culture  which  seeks  to  save  the  whole 
man,  character  and  heart  and  spirit,  as  well  as 
mind  and  body. 

Remembering  the  high  place  we  have  accorded 
to  intellect  in  life  and  religion,  it  will  not  be 
imagined  that  any  depreciation  of  it  can  be  meant 
now,  or  that  we  are  taking  away  with  one  hand 
what  was  given  by  the  other.  Yet  it  must  be 
said  with  emphasis,  that  there  is  a  true  sense  in 
which  a  man  may  be  called  on  to  make  sacrifice 
of  certain  intellectual  qualities  to  be  a  complete 
man  in  the  fullest  meaning  of  the  word.  It  was 
this  that  Romanes  found  hardest  of  all  in  passing 
over  from  Agnosticism  to  the  Christian  faith. 
He  tells  how  his  habitual  scepticism  kept  him 
for  a  quarter  of  a  century  from  ever  performing 
the  simplest  act  of  religion,  that  of  prayer;  how 
he  had  been  so  long  accustomed  to  constitute 
his  reason  as  the  sole  judge  of  truth  that  even 
when  his  reason  told  him  that  his  heart  and  his 
will  should  join  with  reason  in  seeking  God,  he 
was  too  jealous  of  his  reason  to  exercise  his 
will  in  the  direction  of  his  most  heartfelt  desires. 
He  admitted  that  there  were  higher  aspirations 


CULTURE   OF   MIND  93 

of  his  nature  than  the  intellectual,  admitted 
that  since  these  aspirations  were  there  he  ought 
to  cultivate  them  also,  yet  all  these  years  he 
could  not  bring  himself  to  make  a  venture  in 
the  direction  of  faith.  According  to  his  better 
judgment  he  even  felt  this  to  be  irrational,  and 
to  justify  himself  he  was  in  the  habit  of  making 
what  he  felt  to  be  only  excuses  ;  and  he  candidly 
confessed  that,  whatever  were  other  men's  temp- 
tations and  difficulties,  his  was  an  undue  regard 
to  reason  as  against  heart  and  will. 

What  we  need  in  this,  as  in  all  other  regions  of 
our  nature,  is  to  realise  the  sacredness  of  life,  and 
so  to  have  a  deep  sense  of  responsibility  and 
duty.  We  will  be  saved  from  the  vanity  of  some 
intellectual  pursuits  by  feeling  the  true  religious 
sacredness  of  mind.  We  must  cover  this  region 
of  our  nature  with  religious  sanctions.  We  need 
sanctification  of  mind  as  much  as  of  any  other 
part  of  our  being ;  perhaps  more,  for  it  is  with  us 
as  with  Milton's  Satan  — 

The  mind  is  its  own  place,  and  in  itself 
Can  make  a  heaven  of  hell,  a  hell  of  heaven. 

It  is  only  when  God  is  the  pivot  of  our  life  that 
we  are  safe,  and  intellect  can  take  its  right  place 


94  CULTURE   OF   MIND 

and  play  its  harmonious  part  in  the  full  scheme. 
If  we  would  have  our  life  raised,  we  must  submit 
mind,  as  well  as  heart  and  conscience  and  will, 
to  the  process  of  sanctification. 

We  are  not  without  our  ideal  here  as  in  the 
rest  of  life.  Christ  is  the  Christian  ideal.  To 
have  the  same  mind  in  us  which  was  in  Him  is 
distinctly  set  before  us  as  our  aim.  How  full  His 
mind  was  of  beauty  and  truth,  full  of  sweet 
thoughts  and  noble  ideas,  because  full  of  love. 
It  was  the  perfection  of  culture  ;  yet  with  the 
Cross  in  it  all  through,  with  constant  restraint  of 
intellectual  ambition,  constant  giving  up  of  all 
worldly  and  selfish  desires,  constant  thought  of 
God  and  constant  thoughtfulness  of  man.  If  we 
had  the  same  mind,  could  think  the  same  sort 
of  thoughts,  judge  life  by  the  same  standards, 
accustom  ourselves  to  the  same  great  ideas, 
pettiness  would  pass  from  us  and  evil  would  die 
as  in  His  presence.  A  mind  so  held  in  thrall 
could  not  go  far  astray.  We  want  consecrated 
intellect  as  well  as  emotion.  There  is  ample  room 
for  it  in  Christian  work,  for  inventiveness  and 
enterprise  in  methods,  for  the  wise  furtherance  of 
great  causes.  There  are  thousands  waiting  to  be 
led  to  great  enterprises  by  the  man  of  original, 


CULTURE    OF   MIND  95 

consecrated  mind  —  who  never  arrives.  There  is 
room  also  for  satisfied  intellectual  research  in 
Christian  truth,  where  are  hid  all  the  treasures  of 
wisdom  and  knowledge. 


INSTRUMENTS  OF  MENTAL 
CULTURE 


'  Crafty  men  contemn  studies,  simple  men  admire  them, 
and  wise  men  use  them ;  for  they  teach  not  their  own  use ; 
but  that  is  a  wisdom  without  them  and  above  them,  won  by 
observation.  Read  not  to  contradict  and  confute,  nor  to 
believe  and  take  for  granted,  nor  to  find  talk  and  discourse, 
but  to  weigh  and  consider.'  —  BACON. 


CHAPTER  IV 

INSTRUMENTS  OF  MENTAL  CULTURE 

f  I  ^HE  approved  methods  of  attaining  mental 
-*•  culture  seem  almost  commonplace,  but  the 
great  things  in  life  are  very  simple  and  within  the 
reach  of  all.  The  differences  among  men  in  this 
department  depend  on  the  use  made  of  the 
common  instruments  that  lie  ready  to  our  hand. 
Matthew  Arnold  gives  these  three  methods,  and 
in  this  order  :  reading,  observing,  thinking.  The 
order  may  be  accepted,  not  as  one  of  merit,  but 
only  because  the  purpose,  of  reading  and  observ- 
ing is  to  lead  up  to,  and  to  give  material  for, 
thinking.  Reading  means  taking  advantage  of 
the  observations  and  thoughts  and  opinions  of 
others  which  are  so  bountifully  stored  up  for  us 
in  books.  Observing  would  comprise  all  that 
comes  to  us  from  our  own  experience  through 
the  various  avenues  of  approach:  It  will  in- 
clude knowledge  of  men  and  the  world,  love 
of  the  beautiful  in  nature  and  in  art,  and  even 

99 


ioo      INSTRUMENTS   OF   MENTAL  CULTURE 

science  in  its  practical  aspects.  It  will  include 
conversation,  which  is  after  all  one  of  the  chief 
methods  of  education. 

Perhaps  observation  should  come  first  among 
the  methods  of  culture,  because  it  is  earlier  than 
the  more  artificial  method  of  reading.  We  often 
forget  that  a  child  learns  more  in  the  first  five 
years  of  its  life  than  in  any  similar  period  after- 
wards. It  has  to  learn  a  language,  and  all  the 
common  facts  of  the  world,  the  properties  of 
things,  even  the  qualities  of  matter.  The  soul 
makes  its  first  discovery  of  the  world  through  the 
senses.  There  is  no  school  so  efficient  and  so 
equipped  as  the  school  of  nature,  and  the  blunder 
most  of  us  make  is  that  we  do  not  take  the  hint 
from  the  educational  process  that  goes  on  un- 
ceasingly during  the  first  years  of  a  child's  life. 
We  interrupt  its  course  instead  of  directing  it  and 
developing  it.  There  is  much  meaning  for  man 
in  the  old  classical  fable  of  Antaeus,  the  giant 
who  was  a  son  of  Earth  and  challenged  all  to 
wrestle  with  him.  No  one  could  throw  him, 
because  every  time  he  touched  his  mother  earth 
he  received  new  strength.  Hercules  discovered 
the  secret  of  his  strength  and  overcame  him  by 
lifting  him  up  from  the  earth  and  crushing  him 


INSTRUMENTS   OF   MENTAL   CULTURE      101 

in  the  air.  Man,  so  long  as  he  keeps  his  feet  on 
fact,  so  long  as  he  keeps  in  contact  with  nature 
and  is  open  to  the  influences  of  the  world  around 
him,  gets  ever  new  accessions  of  strength  and 
knowledge.  The  best  education  grows  from 
the  broadening  intelligence  that  comes  through 
eye  and  ear  and  the  simple  experiences  of  life. 
The  man  who  forms  the  habit  of  observation  in 
its  widest  sense  lives  in  a  world  that  grows  wider 
and  richer,  and  finds  in  it  an  inexhaustible  source 
not  only  of  increasing  knowledge  but  also  of  fresh 
wonder  and  delight.  The  profoundest  wisdom  is 
always  that  which  is  being  constantly  verified  by 
contact  with  nature  and  with  life.  The  attitude 
of  the  best  culture  is  that  of  the  alert  observer 
intensely  interested  in  events  and  experiences. 
The  man  who  goes  through  life  knowing  nothing 
of  nature  and  little  of  the  world  around  him 
may  be  very  learned  in  books,  but  can  never  be 
completely  educated. 

Our  whole  system  of  education  suffers  from 
our  neglect  to  take  the  broad  hint  that  nature 
gives  us.  We  think  of  education  as  the  same 
thing  as  instruction,  and  forget  that  instruction 
is  only  one  of  the  methods  of  education,  and 
not  the  most  important  at  that.  'Most  parents, 


102   INSTRUMENTS  OF  MENTAL  CULTURE 

of  whatever  rank  or  condition,  fancy  they  have 
done  all  they  need  do  for  the  education  of  their 
children  when  they  have  had  them  taught  such 
things  as  custom  requires  that  persons  of  their 
class  should  learn  ;  although  with  a  view  to  the 
formation  of  character,  the  main  end  and  object 
of  education,  it  would  be  almost  as  reasonable 
to  read  a  treatise  on  botany  to  a  flower-bed, 
under  the  notion  of  making  the  plants  grow  and 
blossom.' 1  One  of  the  ways  to  obviate  this 
mistake  of  our  common  education,  is  to  cultivate 
the  faculty  of  observation.  It  has  value  in  every 
region  of  life.  Artists  differ  not  so  much  in 
their  technical  skill  and  mechanical  capacity,  as 
in  the  truth  and  freshness  of  observation.  A 
trained  eye  notes  colour  and  form,  and  selects 
in  mental  vision  a  composition  of  beauty.  Of 
course,  in  speaking  of  observation  as  an  instru- 
ment of  culture,  we  do  not  mean  the  eye  and  the 
other  senses,  but  the  faculties  which  use  the 
senses.  It  is  really  a  disciplined  mind  making  use 
of  the  various  means  of  impulse  and  information. 
It  is  very  rare  to  find  the  perceptive  powers 
highly  cultivated,  though  we  should  imagine 
them  the  most  natural.  Ruskin's  judgment 

1  Guesses  at  Truth. 


INSTRUMENTS   OF  MENTAL   CULTURE      103 

was  that  a  hundred  men  can  talk  for  one  who 
can  think,  but  a  thousand  men  can  think  for  one 
who  can  see.  Our  system  of  education  is  largely 
to  blame,  since  it  is  usually  a  purely  literary 
education,  the  teaching  of  words  rather  than  of 
things.  The  city  life,  which  is  the  environment 
of  so  many  children,  makes  it  difficult  for  them 
to  train  observation,  and  in  many  ways  civilisa- 
tion has  dulled  the  powers  of  man.  Hardly  one 
of  us  could  tell  the  time  with  anything  like 
accuracy  if  we  were  deprived  of  clocks  and 
watches.  The  actual  observation  of  a  fact  is 
of  far  more  educational  value  than  the  know- 
ledge of  the  same  fact  from  a  book.  The  latter 
adds  a  useful  bit  of  information,  the  former 
trains  a  faculty  which  is  a  permanent  possession. 
It  is  difficult  to  understand  our  carelessness  as 
•  to  this  instrument  of  education,  which  is  really 
at  the  basis  of  all  possible  culture.  We  lose 
much  happiness  and  interest  as  well  as  much 
real  training.  The  world  becomes  more  wonder- 
ful as  man  learns  more  about  it,  and  Nature 
opens  up  ever  new  vistas  of  beauty  and  mystery. 
Intellectual  curiosity  grows  by  what  it  feeds  on. 
Within  a  given  time  in  new  surroundings,  one 
man  will  notice  practically  nothing,  another  will 


104      INSTRUMENTS   OF   MENTAL  CULTURE 

notice  many  new  facts  and  make  many  deduc- 
tions from  them.  To  the  untrained  eye  and  ear, 
a  hedge  or  ditch  means  nothing  but  the  names. 
I  once  met  an  artisan  in  a  country  walk  who 
knew  every  plant  and  insect,  all  the  flora  and 
fauna  of  that  countryside,  and  all  he  had  for  his 
favourite  pursuit  was  the  half  day  a  week  which 
other  working  men  spent  in  loafing  about  the 
streets.  As  he  pointed  out  to  me  interesting 
things  which  I  had  carelessly  passed  by  as 
weeds,  I  blushed  for  my  ignorance  and  blind- 
ness. The  natural  sciences  are  specially  useful 
in  training  men  in  this  direction.  The  founda- 
tion of  all  science  lies  in  trusting  and  training 
the  senses. 

Observation,  of  course,  must  include  classifica- 
tion of  the  facts  to  be  of  practical  use.  We 
need  to  have  the  mass  brought  into  order  and 
system.  The  observant  eye  is  that  which 
fastens  on  the  link  between  facts,  which  sepa- 
rates one  from  another  and  classifies  others 
together.  The  keener  eye  trained  to  observe 
closely  dismisses  the  superficial  likenesses  that 
deceive  others,  and  gets  at  the  points  of  funda- 
mental resemblance.  Without  this  the  world 
is  a  bewildering  mass  of  unrelated  things, 


INSTRUMENTS   OF   MENTAL  CULTURE      105 

which  patient  observation  brings  into  order  and 
beauty. 

We  need  to  distinguish  between  the  mere 
acquisition  of  facts  or  accumulation  of  know- 
ledge and  the  development  of  the  faculties.  The 
evolution  of  a  faculty  is  of  more  importance 
than  the  mere  gaining  of  information.  It  is  the 
difference  between  perfecting  an  organism  and 
filling  up  a  receptacle.  It  is  not  necessarily 
developing  the  mind  to  be  shovelling  into  it 
other  people's  thoughts.  If  these  thoughts  are 
not  assimilated,  the  result  can  only  be  mental 
indigestion.  The  picking  up  of  crumbs  of  know- 
ledge is  not  in  itself  education.  When  we  observe, 
we  should  ask  ourselves  if  we  also  consider. 
The  facts  are  the  material  for  thought.  They 
are  needed  for  comparison,  from  which  the 
mind  classifies,  notes  differences  and  resem- 
blances, arranging  knowledge  in  order  and 
system. 

But  above  that  is  the  discovery  of  causality, 
the  explanation  of  facts  by  law.  The  human 
mind  will  never  believe  that  anything  can  take 
place  without  a  reason  for  it.  In  spite  of  false 
starts  and  mistakes  due  to  accepting  mere 
sequence  for  cause,  and  the  errors  of  hasty 


106      INSTRUMENTS   OF   MENTAL  CULTURE 

generalisation,  and  the  fallacies  of  prejudice  and 
the  like,  we  cannot  be  content  till  we  see  mean- 
ing and  reason  and  cause  for  what  we  observe 
and  consider.  Here  we  recognise  the  need  of 
trained  intellect,  the  cultivation  of  habits  of  true 
reasoning,  by  which  processes  of  thought  are 
brought  to  careful  scrutiny  that  sophistries  may 
be  detected.  For  purposes  of  training,  mathe- 
matics and  logic  are  valuable,  as  mental  gym- 
nastics, if  nothing  else.  Logic,  of  course,  has  a 
danger  of  trusting  too  much  to  the  mere  steps 
of  formal  reasoning,  without  examining  the 
contents  of  thought.  A  man  is  tempted  to 
trust  too  much  to  his  method,  and  look  more 
to  the  verbal  accuracy  of  his  argument  than  to 
its  truth.  It  is  related  of  Jowett,  the  late  Master 
of  Balliol,  that  when  asked  whether  logic  was  an 
art  or  a  science,  he  replied  that  it  was  neither  an 
art  nor  a  science,  but  a  dodge.  The  anecdote 
probably  refers  to  this  danger  we  have  men- 
tioned, through  forgetting  that  logic  is  only  a 
method  of  disposing  of  thought,  and  has  itself 
no  real  contents.  Still,  many  a  fallacy  would 
have  been  killed  at  its  birth,  if  it  had  been 
brought  to  the  test  of  logic  and  examined  care- 
fully. A  study  of  philosophy  also  would  be  a 


INSTRUMENTS   OF  MENTAL  CULTURE      107 

corrective  of  many  a  crude  position  assumed  by 
science.  It  would  save  science  from  any  super- 
ficial dogmatism,  and  would  reveal  what  are  the 
real  fundamental  problems  of  existence.  But 
no  mere  study  of  logic  and  philosophy  and 
science  will  give  the  maturity  of  mind  which 
we  call  wisdom.  It  needs  personal  reflection 
and  experience  acting  on  a  reflective  mind. 

In  this  connection  the  importance  of  memory 
may  be  mentioned,  as  storing  up  for  us  im- 
pressions and  observations  enabling  us  to  profit 
by  previous  knowledge.  Methods  of  study  differ 
according  to  temperament,  and  it  is  foolish 
to  speak  as  if  there  were  one  sacred  way  of 
availing  ourselves  of  the  material  at  our  dis- 
posal. Some  men  remember  only  when  they 
have  written  down  what  they  want  to  imprint 
on  the  mind.  Others  from  their  own  experience 
are  inclined  to  question  whether  the  benefits  of 
this  laborious  method  are  worth  the  waste  of  time, 
and  agree  with  Dr.  Johnson  that  what  is  twice 
read  is  commonly  better  remembered  than  what 
is  transcribed,  and  that  the  true  art  of  memory 
is  the  art  of  attention.  This  applies  to  observa- 
tion perhaps  more  than  to  reading.  Certainly, 
a  thing  fixed  on  the  mind  is  of  more  value  than 


io8      INSTRUMENTS   OF   MENTAL   CULTURE 

the  same  thing  copied  into  a  commonplace- 
book,  even  if  it  is  easily  available  for  use ;  for 
we  never  know  what  living  seed  of  thought  the 
piece  of  knowledge  may  contain  and  may  all 
the  time  be  fructifying  in  the  mind.  Memory 
is  a  faculty  which  must  be  cultivated  in  some 
fashion,  unless  life  is  to  be  to  us  only  a  series 
of  impressions  disconnected  from  the  thinking 
and  experiencing  self.  It  is  memory  that  makes 
observation  of  any  permanent  use.  It  has 
always  material  for  thought  ready  to  hand, 
recalling  instances,  resemblances,  comparisons, 
contrasts.  Through  memory  the  past  is  made 
a  conscious  influence  in  the  life  of  the  present. 
We  are  not  the  men  we  might  have  been  either 
in  knowledge  or  character,  because  we  have 
brought  so  little  from  the  past.  Growth  in 
knowledge  depends  on  memory.  A  mind  with 
a  scientific  bent  and  even  with  excellent  capacity 
for  thought  can  achieve  little  if  it  can  never 
trust  previous  impressions  and  observations.  It 
will  be  like  the  hopeless  labour  of  Sisyphus, 
ever  rolling  uphill  a  mighty  stone  which  never 
fails  to  roll  down  again. 

The  memory   can   be   cultivated    in    the    best 
sense  by  paying  heed  to  the  events  and  experi- 


INSTRUMENTS   OF   MENTAL   CULTURE      109 

ences  of  each  day.  This  is  to  be  done  by 
selection,  by  letting  the  really  important  things 
leave  their  mark  on  us  and  by  letting  the  un- 
important slip.  There  is  a  true  sense  in  which 
the  art  of  remembering  is  the  art  of  forgetting. 
A  good  memory  does  not  mean  the  retentive 
one  that  never  forgets  and  lays  hold  of  every- 
thing indiscriminately,  but  the  memory  that 
selects  the  right  things  to  keep  fast.  The 
memory  that  hangs  on  to  all  kinds  of  unrelated 
knowledge  turns  the  mind  into  a  scrap-heap 
with  much  in  it  that  is  trivial  and  much  that  is 
only  rubbish.  Nothing  is  more  tiresome  than 
a  relation  of  all  sorts  of  unimportant  details  led 
off  into  endless  side  issues  and  miscellaneous 
recollections.  The  real  secret  of  memory  is  vivid 
impression.  We  forget  the  things  that  are  vague 
and  indefinite,  while  the  things  we  care  intensely 
about  make  their  indelible  mark  on  us.  So 
the  keener  and  richer  our  minds  become,  the 
more  easily  do  we  remember  what  feeds  them 
and  interests  them. 

A  great  help  is  to  unify  the  different  items  of 
knowledge,  fitting  them  into  each  other  and 
placing  them  in  their  natural  connection.  This 
is  essential,  as  the  mere  gathering  of  informa- 


no   INSTRUMENTS  OF  MENTAL  CULTURE 

tion  and  acquiring  of  facts,  to  be  stowed  away 
in  the  pigeon-holes  of  memory,  may  weaken 
the  mind  instead  of  strengthening  it.  Pure 
memory-work  may  to  a  large  extent  be  wasted 
labour  from  this  point  of  view.  Getting  lists  of 
dates  by  heart  will  not  necessarily  improve 
the  faculties.  Any  system  for  aiding  weak 
memories  which  depends  on  artificial  associa- 
tion, is  on  wrong  lines ;  for  though  it  may  help 
one  to  remember  facts,  it  does  nothing  to  train 
the  mind.  Only  things  which  have  a  real  rela- 
tion to  each  other  should  be  associated  together 
in  memory.  There  can  be  no  mental  disci- 
pline in  connecting  an  important  fact  with  a 
trivial  and  accidental  one.  Hammerton  recalls 
a  book  upon  memory  which  was  very  popular  in 
its  day  in  which  this  artificial  method  of  associa- 
tion is  advocated.  Men  who  forgot  their  um- 
brellas were  told  that  they  ought  always  to 
associate  the  image  of  an  umbrella  with  that  of 
an  open  door,  so  that  they  could  never  leave 
any  house  without  thinking  of  one.  'But  would 
it  not  be  preferable  to  lose  two  or  three 
guineas  annually  rather  than  see  a  spectral 
umbrella  in  every  doorway?' 

Observation,     as    an     instrument     of     mental 


INSTRUMENTS  OF  MENTAL  CULTURE   in 

culture,  must  be  defined  widely  enough  to  in- 
clude social  intercourse,  conversation,  and  the 
direct  contact  with  other  minds.  Many  a  living 
impulse  is  received  from  the  impact  of  a  fresh 
intellect.  Society  as  well  as  solitude  is  needed 
to  produce  true  culture.  Every  student  owes 
much  to  comradeship  in  kindred  studies,  as 
every  worker  owes  much  of  his  skill  to  comrade- 
ship in  work.  There  have  been  young  men's 
societies  which  have  been  a  great  element  in 
the  formation  of  character  and  in  the  production 
of  intellectual  taste,  where  mind  sharpened 
mind  as  iron  sharpens  iron,  where  noble 
ambitions  were  nursed  and  encouraged.  So 
much  of  our  social  intercourse  is  trivial,  that  men 
do  not  often  dive  into  each  others'  minds  and 
bring  up  treasures  from  the  depth ;  yet  there 
have  been  times  of  great  culture  when  con- 
versation was  practically  the  only  method  avail- 
able. The  dialogues  of  Plato  suggest  to  us  what 
was  possible  in  Greek  life,  and  even  yet  the 
great  value  of  oral  teaching  lies  in  the  contact 
of  mind  with  mind.  The  solitary  thinker  loses 
much  of  impulse  and  correction  and  gets  out 
of  touch  with  life.  We  might  all  make  more  of 
this  important  instrument  of  education.  There 


H2   INSTRUMENTS  OF  MENTAL  CULTURE 

is  no  one  from  whom  we  might  not  learn  some- 
thing, and  many  a  man  grows  rich  in  mind 
through  his  healthy  interest  in  life  and  keen 
curiosity,  who  has  very  little  trafficking  with 
books.  In  his  essay  on  the  education  of  children, 
Montaigne  recommends  that  a  boy  should  be 
trained  to  learn  from  conversation.  '  Let  him 
be  advised,  being  in  company,  to  have  his  eye 
and  ear  in  every  corner  of  the  room,  for  I  find 
that  the  places  of  greatest  honour  are  commonly 
possessed  by  men  that  have  least  in  them,  and 
that  the  greatest  fortunes  are  not  always  accom- 
panied by  the  ablest  parts.  Let  him  examine 
every  man's  talent  —  a  peasant,  a  bricklayer,  or  a 
passenger.  A  man  may  learn  something  from 
every  one  of  these  in  their  several  capacities,  and 
something  will  be  picked  out  of  their  discourse 
whereof  some  use  may  be  made  at  one  time  or 
another ;  nay,  even  the  folly  and  impertinence  of 
others  will  contribute  to  his  instruction.  By 
observing  the  graces  and  fashions  of  all  he  sees 
he  will  create  to  himself  an  emulation  of  the 
good  and  a  contempt  of  the  bad.' 

The  next  great   instrument  of  mental  culture 
is  books  and  reading.     A  man  who  is  ignorant  of 


INSTRUMENTS   OF   MENTAL   CULTURE      113 

what  others  before  him  have  thought  will  turn 
down  many  a  blind  alley,  will  set  great  store  on 
ideas  that  have  been  proved  false,  and  will  prob- 
ably overrate  his  own  intellectual  accomplish- 
ments. We  would  never  travel  very  far  if  we 
had  always  to  go  back  to  the  beginning  and  call 
everything  to  question  and  start  at  first  prin- 
ciples. Books  are  the  record  of  other  people's 
experience  and  thought  and  feeling,  and  as  such 
are  of  immense  importance,  widening  our  vision, 
extending  our  limited  range  of  life,  correcting 
our  own  conclusions,  and  giving  vast  data  for  our 
thinking.  But  after  all,  we  must  rem ember  that 
what  they  contain  is  only  the  material  in  the 
rough  which  we  ourselves  must  use  for  our 
culture.  They  are  a  valuable  instrument,  and 
are  often  the  first  real  impulse  many  men  get  for 
the  intellectual  life.  Most  of  us  would  be  poorly 
equipped  mentally  if  all  we  had  gained  from 
books  were  taken  away  from  us.  At  the  same 
time,  the  great  education  is  life,  not  literature. 
The  quality  of  our  mind  and  character  is  formed 
by  our  vital  experience,  the  fruit  of  our  own 
thought  and  feeling  and  action.  Knowledge  can 
be  added  to  us  indefinitely  from  the  record  of 
what  others  have  learned,  but  wisdom  must 


114     INSTRUMENTS   OF  MENTAL  CULTURE 

issue  from  the  living  source  within  ourselves. 
Even  the  value  of  what  others  can  give  us  is 
determined  by  our  capacity  to  make  it  our  own, 
and  to  profit  by  their  observation  and  thinking. 
Erudition  does  not  mean  a  cultivated  mind. 
The  mere  scholar  may  have  never  learned 
wisdom,  and  all  his  learning  may  only  be  the 
echo  of  others'  words.  Indeed  it  is  astonishing 
how  intellectual  workers  will  go  on  repeating  the 
fallacies  of  their  predecessors,  through  their 
blind  dependence  on  what  is  stated  in  books. 
Generation  after  generation  of  commentators 
will  repeat  ancient  and  traditional  interpreta- 
tions, because  they  rarely  trust  their  own  in- 
dependent vision  and  judgment.  Some  of  the 
greatest  thinkers  and  writers  were  not  bookmen 
in  our  sense  of  the  word.  The  bookmen  are 
those  who  write  prolix  commentaries  on  their 
work. 

There  is  a  tendency  to  overestimate  the  value 
of  books  in  any  scheme  of  culture.  The  mere 
knowledge  of  authors  is  supposed  to  guarantee 
education.  Yet  we  know  from  sad  experience 
that  a  man  can  be  bookish,  and  even  learned, 
a  very  dungeon  of  scholarship,  and  be  narrow 
in  his  judgments  and  cramped  in  his  mind. 


INSTRUMENTS   OF   MENTAL   CULTURE      115 

Shakespeare  satirises  pedantic  book-learning  and 
the  exaggerated  value  of  books  in  the  scene 
in  Love's  Labour's  Lost  where  Sir  Nathaniel 
the  curate  and  Holofernes  the  schoolmaster 
bandy  long  words  and  Latin  quotations  with 
poor  old  policeman  Dull.  The  curate  apologises 
to  the  schoolmaster  for  the  policeman's  igno- 
rance, '  Sir,  he  hath  never  fed  of  the  dainties 
that  are  bred  in  a  book :  he  hath  not  eaten  paper, 
as  it  were ;  he  hath  not  drunk  ink ;  his  intellect 
is  not  replenished,  he  is  only  an  animal,  only 
sensible  in  the  duller  parts.'  Our  view  of  culture 
has  been  too  scholastic,  too  much  a  literary 
acquirement.  We  see  that  in  many  other  ways 
—  in  practical  life,  in  dealing  with  affairs,  in  ob- 
servational science,  in  love  of  nature  —  genuine 
elements  of  culture  can  be  attained.  Literature 
is  a  great  gift  to  man,  and  all  the  inventions 
which  make  it  common  property  are  among  the 
triumphs  of  the  race.  Yet  a  protest  is  needed 
against  indiscriminate  valuation  of  it.  Like 
many  gifts,  it  carries  a  menace  in  its  bosom. 

It  is  easy  to  speak  in  praise  of  books,  and  to 
tell  of  the  pleasure  and  profit  reading  can  bring 
to  a  man,  but  perhaps  there  is  nothing  in  our 
lives  to-day  which  requires  more  careful  regula- 


n6   INSTRUMENTS  OF  MENTAL  CULTURE 

tion  —  and  which  gets  less.  Even  printing  is  not 
an  unmixed  blessing.  Information  was  never 
more  universally  extended,  but  information  is  not 
education.  Everybody  can  read,  but  the  propor- 
tion of  thought  and  wisdom  to  folly  has  not  in- 
creased in  its  due  ratio.  We  seem  to  think  we 
are  doing  well  if  we  are  reading  a  book  —  any 
book.  Much  of  our  reading  is  from  idleness  and 
mere  vacuity.  Or  we  read  in  the  vain  idea  that 
we  are  thus  entering  into  the  life  of  thought, 
when  as  a  matter  of  fact  reading  is  made  a 
substitute  for  thinking.  Books  must  always  take 
an  important  place  in  culture,  but  they  are  only 
one  instrument  of  culture.  Nay,  reading  is  only 
a  means  to  a  means,  for  the  chief  instrumtnt  of 
culture  is  thought,  and  books  have  their  place  as 
an  inducement  to  thought.  Literature  is  not  an 
end  in  itself,  but  a  means  to  develop  sound  judg- 
ment and  taste  and  intelligence.  Of  course 
there  is  a  place  for  recreation,  a  mere  enjoyment 
in  reading,  but  it  is  not  with  that  we  are  specially 
concerned  in  our  present  connection.  Books 
have  a  ministry  of  comfort,  and  a  ministry  of 
innocent  happiness,  and  one  might  speak  long 
of  the  delights  of  reading,  and  the  resource  it 
affords  to  a  man  in  almost  any  situation.  Our 


INSTRUMENTS   OF   MENTAL   CULTURE      117 

present  purpose,  however,  is  to  deal  with  reading 
as  it  ministers  to  intellectual  culture.  It  was 
never  so  important  and  perhaps  so  difficult  to 
know  what  to  read,  just  because  more  than  ever 
of  the  making  many  books  there  is  no  end. 

We  must  soon  settle  for  ourselves  what  not  to 
read,  or  we  may  as  well  give  up  reading  altogether. 
The  principle  of  selection  means  a  principle  of 
rejection.  We  must  be  willing  to  know  nothing 
of  the  book  of  the  month,  or  of  the  day,  or  of  the 
moment.  We  have  to  give  up  the  attempt  to 
keep  up  with  the  outflow  of  books  even  along 
one  line.  There  is  no  reason  in  the  world  why 
we  need  read  the  reams  of  minor  poetry  if  we 
have  not  lived  with  the  great  poets  who  have 
fed  the  life  of  man.  If  reading  is  to  be  to  us, 
as  it  may  be,  a  means  of  culture,  we  must  have 
a  rigorous  standard.  We  must  avoid  what  De 
Quincey  called  the  gluttony  of  books.  It  is  a 
very  good  plan  to  give  most  of  our  spare  time 
for  reading  to  the  great  standard  accredited 
books.  These  have  achieved  their  position 
through  merit.  Time  has  sifted  her  treasures 
for  us,  and  that  not  by  haphazard.  Why  waste 
time  over  the  ephemeral  prints,  the  endless 
magazine  articles,  if  we  are  ignorant  of  the 


Ii8      INSTRUMENTS   OF   MENTAL   CULTURE 

world's  best  works  ?  If  we  have  serious  views 
of  the  place  of  literature  in  culture,  we  must  do 
more  than  read  these  books  once  and  have  done 
with  them,  as  we  read  a  newspaper  leader  or 
most  modern  novels.  We  must  live  with  them 
and  let  them  influence  the  very  fibre  of  our 
minds,  giving  us  elevated  thoughts  and  calm 
standards  of  judgment.  After  all,  in  spite  of 
the  endless  making  of  books,  we  can  make  some 
headway  with  those  which  by  common  consent 
are  put  on  the  first  rank.  It  is  not  altogether 
a  counsel  of  perfection  to  set  before  ourselves 
the  mastery  of  the  world's  best. 

Culture  is  not  so  much  concerned  with  belles 
lettres,  or  aesthetic  style,  or  the  curiosities  of 
literature,  as  with  the  great  formative  books  of 
universal  and  permanent  value.  And  it  is  not 
the  number  of  these  we  master  which  is  most 
important,  but  the  closeness  of  our  intercourse. 
A  man  has  received  more  true  culture  from  the 
constant  and  patient  study  of  one  book  than  is 
got  by  the  ordinary  desultory  reader  who  samples 
whole  libraries.  The  influence  of  the  Bible  on 
the  life  and  thought  of  men  need  only  be 
mentioned  to  prove  this.  Not  that  we  should 
subscribe  to  the  narrow  doctrine  of  some  that 


INSTRUMENTS   OF  MENTAL   CULTURE      119 

no  other  book  is  needed.  That  is  not  piety, 
though  it  looks  like  it.  Still,  it  would  be  well 
if  we  enforced  anew  on  ourselves  the  value  of 
the  Bible  as  literature.  Apart  altogether  from 
what  the  modern  world  owes  to  the  Bible, 
morally  and  religiously,  our  debt  to  it  as  litera- 
ture is  immense.  Almost  every  great  writer  has 
acknowledged  his  own  individual  indebtedness. 

More  important  than  the  question  what  to  read 
is  the  question  how  to  read.  A  true  method  of 
reading  will  solve  the  problem  of  the  kind  of 
reading.  If  we  read  with  attention  and  system, 
and  with  desire  to  understand  and  profit,  we 
will  naturally  discard  the  trivial  and  empty 
books,  and  will  reserve  ourselves  for  those  that 
are  worthy  of  our  steel.  The  fruits  of  culture  in 
wisdom,  good  taste,  critical  appreciation,  are 
not  gathered  by  chance.  They  are  not  a  gift, 
but  a  growth.  The  attention  which  a  serious 
book  requires  is  a  power  that  comes  from  culti- 
vation. Emerson  speaks  of  creative  reading  in 
which  the  mind  is  braced  by  labour  and  invention, 
so  that  the  page  we  read  becomes  illuminated 
with  manifold  allusion.  The  suggestiveness  of 
a  book  depends  very  much  on  how  we  come 
to  it,  and  the  impression  it  makes  is  often  a  test 


120      INSTRUMENTS   OF  MENTAL   CULTURE 

of  ourselves  more  than  a  test  of  the  book.  If  we 
read  with  care  and  sympathy,  taking  pains  to 
understand  and  appreciate,  we  will  soon  find  out 
the  books  which  nourish  our  mind,  and  will  agree 
with  Macaulay  when  he  said  that  he  would  rather 
live  in  a  garret  with  a  library  than  in  a  palace 
without  one. 

We  have  said  that  for  the  purposes  of  culture 
all  the  means  referred  to  have  their  place  as 
giving  food  for  thought.  The  object  of  all 
education  is  to  form  the  mind,  not  merely  to 
furnish  it  with  information,  even  the  best  that 
books  can  give.  Information  is  useful  and 
necessary  to  give  data  for  making  judgments 
and  arriving  at  decisions,  but  it  is  thought  which 
is  the  instrument  of  mental  culture.  John  Fos- 
ter, in  a  letter  to  a  correspondent,  remarked  that 
in  the  review  of  life  we  shall  see  that  perhaps  the 
worst  fault  was  that  we  had  thought  far  too 
little.  All  who  have  tried  in  any  way  to  impress 
their  fellows  with  any  truth  have  felt  that  this 
was  the  one  needful  thing,  to  get  them  to  think, 
to  take  account  of  the  facts  and  open  their  minds 
to  great  issues. 

It  is  so   easy  to   refuse  to  consider  facts   till 


INSTRUMENTS  OF  MENTAL  CULTURE   121 

the  facts  hit  us  in  the  face,  when  it  is  usually 
too  late  for  any  practical  purpose.  We  seem 
to  have  a  constitutional  disinclination  to  con- 
sider matters  of  grave  moment ;  and  to  many  of 
us  the  last  thing  we  would  do  is  to  stop  in  our 
breathless  life  and  give  ourselves  space  to  think. 
We  seldom  think  anything  out  right  to  its  end. 
We  even  take  up  our  opinions  ready  made,  giving 
little  personal  investigation  to  a  subject,  with  no 
serious  regard  for  the  facts  on  which  a  decision 
should  be  built,  and  with  no  deliberate  thought 
on  the  great  issues  that  hang  on  a  decision. 
Among  all  the  types  of  character  in  our  midst 
—  many  of  them  excellent  and  some  of  them 
beautiful  —  the  thoughtful  type  is  perhaps  the 
rarest.  The  reason,  of  course,  is  that  thoughtful- 
ness  implies  the  collectedness  of  mind  which  can 
only  come  from  a  long  discipline.  Complacent 
drifting  with  the  tide  is  common  in  every 
region.  In  politics  we  find  everywhere  the 
unintelligent  acceptance  of  a  party  creed,  where 
men  repeat  the  old  catch-words  of  party,  and  do 
not  really  set  themselves  to  master  the  problems 
they  are  called  on  to  decide.  In  business,  even 
when  skill  and  energy  and  industry  are  lavished 
on  work,  there  is  often  a  lack  of  initiative  which 


122   INSTRUMENTS  OF  MENTAL  CULTURE 

comes  from  a  complete  grasp  of  the  situation. 
In  religion,  how  common  it  is  to  find  the  tradi- 
tional and  the  conventional,  and  how  seldom 
the  original.  By  original  is  not  meant  the  sense- 
less striving  after  new  opinions,  but  a  living 
faith  that  is  the  expression  of  a  man's  own 
thought  and  experience.  We  do  not  often  hear 
a  live  voice  that  is  more  than  an  echo,  speaking 
out  of  the  depths  of  personal  and  experimental 
knowledge. 

We  have  seen  that  books,  which  are  a  record 
of  what  other  men  have  thought  and  felt,  and 
should  be  a  valuable  provocative  of  thought, 
are  commonly  used  by  us  as  a  substitute  for 
thinking,  or  as  a  sedative  to  the  mind,  if  not  even 
a  soporific.  Our  practical  activities  and  methods 
of  work  and  busy  ways  may  be  tending  in  the 
same  direction  of  stifling  thought.  It  is  far 
easier  to  be  busy  than  to  be  thoughtful.  Activity 
may  be  not  the  fruit  of  thought,  but  a  substitute 
for  it.  It  is  indeed  one  of  the  commonest 
expedients  to  drown  serious  thought  in  a  flood 
of  activity.  A  man  can  forget  the  keenest 
impressions  and  can  forget  grief  by  throwing 
himself  into  all  sorts  of  affairs.  There  are  more 
ways  of  finding  distraction  than  by  the  common 


INSTRUMENTS   OF   MENTAL   CULTURE      123 

way  of  worldly  pleasure.  Business  may  be  a 
distraction  to  a  man,  by  which  he  gets  rid  of 
the  clamant  call  to  consider,  to  give  calm  and 
serious  reflection  to  the  greatest  questions  in  the 
world.  We  may  be  so  engrossed  in  living  that 
we  can  neglect  life.  With  the  countless  distrac- 
tions of  our  modern  life,  with  the  many  ways'  of 
evading  thought  —  by  reading,  by  business,  by 
pleasure,  and  the  like  —  we  may  well  take  the 
counsel  to  heart,  to  gather  ourselves  at  the  centre 
and  consider  and  think  on  our  ways.  'A  thinking 
man  is  the  worst  enemy  the  Prince  of  Dark- 
ness can  have/  says  Carlyle ;  and  that  is  true, 
for  thoughtlessness,  carelessness,  intellectual  and 
moral  indifference  are  the  great  stumbling-blocks 
in  the  way  of  the  progress  of  true  religion. 

Culture  has  suffered  in  reputation  by  its 
aloofness  from  life,  as  if  the  mere  existence  of 
taste  and  judgment  and  thoughtfulness  were  a 
complete  end  in  itself.  True  thinking  needs  to 
be  directed  in  some  form  or  other  to  practical 
issues,  and  culture  needs  to  be  related  to  life. 
It  justifies  itself  by  its  invaluable  contribution 
to  the  world.  What  we  need  most  is  not 
speculation  nor  vague  pondering  over  a  general 
problem,  nor  the  logical  sequence  of  thought. 


124     INSTRUMENTS  OF  MENTAL  CULTURE 

A  man  may  have  many  intellectual  interests, 
and  may  exercise  his  brain  in  very  strenuous 
fashion  and  be  absorbed  in  profound  specula- 
tions, may  love  to  crack  the  hardest  nuts  in 
theology  or  philosophy  or  scientific  investiga- 
tion, and  yet  may  come  short  of  the  highest 
demands  made  upon  him  by  true  culture.  In- 
deed, science  and  theology  and  philosophy  and 
the  intellectual  life  generally,  may  be  made  a 
distraction  to  escape  the  further  appeal  of 
thought.  It  is  much  to  be  seriously  inclined,  to 
be  open  to  consider  difficult  subjects,  to  have 
trained  the  mind  in  veracity  and  accuracy  and 
fed  it  with  noble  ideas,  to  have  thought  broadly 
and  largely  on  the  vast  problems  of  the  world. 
That  mental  discipline  gives  the  serious  bent 
and  the  wide  outlook,  and  at  least  saves  a  man 
from  shallowness  and  incoherence  of  thought 
and  light-headed  flightiness.  It  also  saves  from 
the  frivolity  of  mind  and  emptiness  of  life  which 
enable  some  to  float  gaily  on  the  surface,  or 
which  in  others  lead  to  satisfaction  in  corrupt 
and  evil  pleasures,  contentment  with  the  life  of 
sense.  But  some  have  reached  splendid  views 
of  life  at  large,  who  have  never  translated  it  into 
terms  of  their  own  life  nor  come  to  close  quarters 


INSTRUMENTS    OF   MENTAL  CULTURE      125 

with  themselves.  We  need  to  see  life  in  the  light 
of  duty  and  personal  responsibility  and  privilege, 
and  find  one  of  our  highest  motives  for  self- 
culture  in  the  equipment  of  self  for  high  service. 

The  methods  we  have  dealt  with  of  attaining 
culture  may  be  summed  up  in  a  quotation  from 
Ruskin,  which  states  in  general  language  what 
we  must  each  work  out  for  ourselves.  '  Intellec- 
tual education/  he  says  in  Fors  Clavigera,  '  consists 
in  giving  the  creature  the  faculties  of  admiration, 
hope,  and  love.  These  are  to  be  taught  by  the 
study  of  beautiful  nature ;  and  the  sight  and 
history  of  noble  persons ;  and  the  setting  forth 
of  noble  objects  of  action.'  These  correspond 
pretty  accurately  to  our  three  divisions,  observ- 
ing, reading,  thinking.  The  test  of  the  value  of 
our  culture  we  can  apply  to  ourselves :  whether 
it  has  really  inspired  us  with  admiration  and 
love  for  all  that  is  good  and  beautiful  and  true, 
and  how  it  works  out  in  the  service  of  our 
lives. 


CULTURE  AND   SPECIALISM 


'  We  are  not  born  to  solve  the  problems  of  the  world,  but 
to  find  out  where  the  problem  begins,  and  then  to  keep 
within  the  limits  of  what  we  can  grasp.'  —  GOETHE. 


CHAPTER  V 

CULTURE    AND    SPECIALISM 

THE  possibilities  of  life  are  not  exhausted 
by  the  careful  cultivation  of  one  special 
faculty.  We  are  always  beset  by  the  temptation 
to  lay  the  stress  on  a  particular  side  of  our 
nature,  at  the  expense  of  all  other  capacities. 
In  the  intellectual  life  we  are  usually  developed 
along  one  line,  and  are  inclined  to  underestimate 
the  other  branches  of  study  and  knowledge.  The 
scientist  glorifies  his  subject  and  his  methods, 
sometimes  without  a  glimmer  of  a  notion  of  the 
vast  region  of  thought  of  which  the  philosopher 
takes  charge.  The  philosopher  deals  with  his 
systems  in  a  kind  of  vacuum,  with  little  tolerance 
for  the  wisdom  of  the  man  of  affairs.  The 
business  man  sometimes  has  a  delightful  oblivion 
of  both  science  and  philosophy,  and  cultivates 
his  calculating  and  practical  thinking  powers. 
While  all  of  them  may  be  ignorant  that  there 
is  a  world  of  art,  or  poetry,  or  religion  existing 

K  129 


130  CULTURE   AND   SPECIALISM 

for  others.  It  is  dreadfully  easy  to  grow  narrow 
and  cramped  even  by  those  who  do  live  a  real 
intellectual  life.  We  are  forced  to  be  specialists 
by  the  necessities  of  our  work,  and  the  danger  is 
imminent  to  all  of  neglecting  the  larger,  richer 
life,  which  is  our  birthright  as  the  heirs  of  time. 
In  religion  also  the  same  danger  arises  of  denn- 
ing the  saintly  character  in  terms  of  one  special 
quality.  The  mediaeval  church  looked  for  the 
ascetic  note  in  its  saints,  abstraction  from  the 
world  and  the  virtues  of  the  recluse.  We  can  go 
as  far  in  the  other  extreme,  and  ask  for  nothing 
but  fussy  practicality  and  a  blatant  zeal.  If  we 
try  to  imagine  the  finest  type  of  character  to 
which  we  would  gladly  give  the  name  of  saintli- 
ness,  we  find  ourselves  giving  the  pre-eminence 
to  one  of  the  graces.  We  usually  think  of  one 
special  quality,  and  not  of  a  full-orbed  person- 
ality defective  on  no  side  of  true  human  nature. 
The  fact  is,  that  in  all  these  regions  of  life  we 
need  to  be  reminded  of  the  many-sided  per- 
fection which  ought  at  least  to  be  our  ideal. 
In  most  things  our  measure  of  excellence  is 
liable  to  be  influenced  by  what  we  think  our  own 
strong  point.  Selden  in  his  shrewd  lawyer's 
Table  Talk  exemplified  this  by  a  tale  of  Nash 


CULTURE   AND   SPECIALISM  131 

the  poet,  poor  enough  (as  poets  used  to  be), 
seeing  an  alderman  with  his  gold  chain,  upon 
his  great  horse,  and  said  by  way  of  scorn  to  one 
of  his  companions,  'Do  you  see  yon  fellow,  how 
goodly,  how  big  he  looks?  Why,  that  fellow 
cannot  make  a  blank  verse ! '  If  capacity  to 
make  even  indifferent  blank  verse  were  to  be 
the  test  of  aldermen  or  of  any  other  posts  of 
authority,  there  would  be  some  startling  changes 
in  the  world.  All  of  us  in  our  judgments  —  even 
poets  —  need  to  take  a  wider  view  than  that  of 
our  special  calling.  We  would  say  that  for  com- 
plete health  and  perfect  physical  condition  the 
growth  should  be  all-round  in  every  power  and 
part.  And  similarly,  we  would  say  that  the 
complete  man  must  not  be  narrow  in  his  sym- 
pathies or  his  interests.  The  chief  purpose  of 
all  education  should  be  to  produce  a  well 
balanced,  fully  developed  mind.  It  is  the 
purpose  of  the  great  education  of  life  to  bring 
every  power  to  its  best,  to  draw  out  the  highest 
faculties,  and  yet  leave  no  part  entirely  uncared 
for.  This  is  the  meaning  of  the  much  abused 
phrase,  general  culture.  It  lives  as  a  constant 
protest  against  one-sidedness.  In  these  days 
of  specialising,  when  in  everything  men  are 


132  CULTURE  AND  SPECIALISM 

forced  to  limit  themselves,  to  do  almost 
exclusively  the  one  thing  they  can  do  best  or 
-have  learned  to  do,  the  protest  is  particularly 
needed.  In  all  sorts  of  work  this  tendency  is 
going  on,  and  increasingly  so.  It  may  not  be 
possible  to  alter  the  conditions  of  life  to-day, 
and  perhaps  we  should  not  want  to  change 
them,  but  it  is  foolish  to  shut  our  eyes  to  the 
dangers  and  drawbacks  of  present  conditions. 

Of  course  we  need  to  remember  that  there 
are  dangers  on  both  sides.  There  are  ever  a 
Scylla  and  Charybdis  to  be  passed  in  the 
voyage  of  life.  The  chief  intellectual  tempta- 
tion of  culture  is  the  danger  of  being  super- 
ficial. This  arises  from  the  very  nature  of  the 
case,  as  culture  implies  breadth  of  interest. 
We  are  inclined  to  make  it  too  much  a  matter 
of  accomplishments.  The  very  variety  of  pur- 
suits produces  the  danger.  The  man  whose 
ideal  is  mental  culture  is  always  liable  to 
degenerate  into  the  mere  dilettante.  Culture  is 
a  useful  corrective  of  undue  development  of  one 
part  at  the  expense  of  the  rest,  for  it  aims  at 
symmetry  of  life.  A  tree  to  grow  into  its 
fulness  must  have  light  all  round  it.  If  it  is 
too  near  a  house,  it  will  grow  out  on  one 


CULTURE  AND   SPECIALISM  133 

side  dwarfed  or  distorted.  The  mind  needs 
open  space  and  light  all  round  it  to  grow  in 
fulness,  and  culture  at  least  attempts  to  give 
it  that.  A  largeness  of  interest  in  many  things 
counteracts  the  narrowness  of  our  necessary 
specialism  in  all  branches  of  activity. 

But  culture  in  the  repulsion  from  the  one 
ditch  runs  the  risk  of  falling  into  the  ditch  on 
the  other  side.  A  man  in  the  name  of  culture 
can  live  with  vacuous  general  interests,  with  no 
special  life-work,  with  nothing  he  has  made  his 
own.  To  such  is  due  the  contempt  into  which 
the  very  name  has  fallen.  It  has  come  to  mean 
the  quality  of  the  dilettante,  a  smattering  of 
everything  and  a  mastery  of  nothing,  often 
another  name  also  for  affectation.  Even  when 
the  effort  after  culture  is  serious  and  sincere, 
there  are  pitfalls  that  lie  near  the  life  of  study. 
One  is  the  overfastidious  taste  which  keeps  a 
man  from  ever  making  any  real  use  of  his 
acquirements,  and  which  will  not  let  him  pro- 
duce anything,  making  him  spend  his  life  in 
dreams.  Another  is  the  danger  of  being 
smothered  in  a  mass  of  detail,  letting  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge  grow  faster  than  any 
power  of  using  it.  To  trifle  with  this  and 


134  CULTURE   AND   SPECIALISM 

that,  touching  now  on  one  subject  and  now  on 
another,  never  concentrating  the  mind  on  the 
mastery  of  a  single  subject,  is  to  spread  out 
into  shallows  what  might  have  gone  to  depth. 
It  is  often  due  to  weakness  of  character,  lack  of 
perseverance  and  of  will,  and  of  serious  applica- 
tion. There  is  a  many-sided  cultivation  which  is 
easier  attained  and  more  commonly  possessed  than 
the  force  of  character  needed  to  perfect  one 
branch. 

This  is  often  the  value  of  a  definite  profession 
or  business.  In  the  devoted  application  to  a 
profession  a  young  man's  intellectual  energy  is 
often  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  concentrated. 
His  school  education  embraced  so  many  sub- 
jects, among  which  he  could  only  dabble, 
that  his  powers  of  mind  were  scattered,  while 
his  professional  training  gives  him  at  least  a 
command  of  one  line  which  strengthens  his 
character,  and  reveals  to  him  the  value  of  per- 
sistent labour.  The  foes  of  culture  are  of  its 
own  household,  and  pedantry  is  one  of  the  chief 
of  these,  due  to  ignorance  of  life  and  an  exalted 
conception  of  mere  scholastic  acquirements.  It 
usually  also  develops  into  a  petty  conceit,  which 
makes  mind  the  measure  of  man,  and  a  know- 


CULTURE    AND   SPECIALISM  135 

ledge  of  books  the  measure  of  mind.  It  creates 
a  new  barrier  between  men,  as  exclusive  and 
contemptuous  as  any  other  class  or  caste  dis- 
tinction. We  are  called  to  avoid  the  two  ex- 
tremes, learned  pedantry  on  the  one  side,  and 
ignorant  contempt  of  learning  on  the  other. 
Both  are  foolish,  but  the  former  is  the  more 
culpable  of  the  two,  since  it  is  in  the  name  of  a 
pretended  enlightenment,  though  it  really  has 
its  origin  in  superficial  and  vague  knowledge. 
Something  is  to  be  said  for  the  advantages  of 
specialism  even  in  education. 

The  young  man  who  is  allowed  to  follow  the 
lines  of  work  for  which  he  is  most  fitted  is  more 
likely  to  succeed  than  when  he  is  set  to  a  variety 
of  things  that  may  not  be  congenial  to  his 
natural  aptitude.  And  a  smattering  of  accom- 
plishments, which  too  often  passes  for  education, 
gives  no  real  training,  and  often  also  produces 
a  very  offensive  type  such  as  Mark  Pattison  in 
his  Memoirs  protests  against  in  the  young  Ox- 
ford which  the  present  system  tends  to  turn 
out.  '  From  showy  lectures,  from  manuals,  from 
attractive  periodicals,  the  youth  is  put  in  pos- 
session of  ready-made  opinions  on  every  con- 
ceivable subject,  a  crude  mass  of  matter  which 


136  CULTURE   AND  SPECIALISM 

he  is  taught  to  regard  as  real  knowledge. 
Swollen  with  this  puffy  and  unwholesome  diet 
he  goes  forth  into  the  world,  regarding  himself 
like  the  infant  in  the  nursery  as  the  centre  of 
all  things,  the  measure  of  the  universe.  He 
thinks  he  can  evince  his  superiority  by  freely 
distributing  sneers  and  scoffs  upon  all  that 
does  not  agree  with  the  set  of  opinions  which 
he  happens  to  have  adopted  from  imitation, 
from  fashion,  or  from  chance.  Having  no  root 
in  itself,  such  a  type  of  character  is  liable  to  be- 
come an  easy  prey  to  any  popular  charlatanism 
or  current  fanaticism.' 

The  value  of  a  special  life-work  is  that  it 
presents  a  subject  that  a  man  is  called  upon 
to  master.  The  bread  and  butter  sciences,  those 
by  which  men  earn  their  living,  do  not  deserve 
the  sneers  so  commonly  passed  upon  them,  as 
if  they  had  no  place  in  what  is  called  a  liberal 
education.  Devotion  to  one's  special  work 
brings  a  strength  to  both  mind  and  character 
which  cannot  be  otherwise  obtained.  It  is 
always  a  good  thing  for  a  young  man  to  peg 
out  a  field  for  himself,  which  he  sets  himself  to 
master,  even  though  it  be  a  narrow  field.  The 
serious  man  feels  that  he  must  limit  himself 


CULTURE   AND   SPECIALISM  137 

to  make  the  most  of  himself.  There  is  a  per- 
ennial source  of  strength  in  the  simplicity  of  a 
definite  purpose.  The  first  secret  of  all  art  and 
life  is  to  learn  the  limitations  of  both  and  to 
obey  them.  The  really  great  man  in  science  or 
literature  or  art  is  the  man  who  first  of  all  has 
mastered  his  own  branch  of  work  and  refuses 
to  be  tempted  away  to  other  attractive  regions. 
A  definite  aim  persistently  pursued  gives  both 
strength  and  dignity  to  a  life.  More  than 
ever  men  feel  that  they  cannot  dissipate  their 
energies.  Specialisation  has  come  to  stay,  for 
it  cannot  be  avoided  if  knowledge  is  to  be  at  all 
thorough.  Sound  and  complete  mastery  of  a 
subject  implies  a  deliberate  disregard  of  other 
branches  of  knowledge.  Of  course  this  means 
that  we  are  menaced  by  the  danger  of  becoming 
one-sided  in  our  faculties,  and  even  narrow  in 
our  sympathy.  We  need  to  remember  that 
education  is  designed  to  make  men  of  us,  and 
not  merely  to  make  us  capable  business  or  pro- 
fessional men.  It  is  here  that  culture  tells,  in 
presenting  its  ideal  that  the  end  of  life  is  to  be, 
and  not  merely  to  get  or  succeed. 

It   is    found    in    every   industry   that    it    pays 
better    for    workers     to    confine    themselves    to 


I38  CULTURE   AND   SPECIALISM 

doing  one  thing.  A  man  who  some  years  ago 
would  have  been  a  general  blacksmith  engaged 
in  all  the  branches  of  that  trade,  will  now  perhaps 
do  nothing  but  shoe  horses  or  hammer  nails. 
Division  of  labour,  or  specialising  of  function, 
have  become  essential  in  modern  industry.  It 
is  even  a  tendency  of  our  civilisation  to  divide 
men  into  classes,  and  especially  the  two  great 
classes  of  those  whose  work  is  almost  exclusively 
manual  and  those  whose  work  is  intellectual. 
The  drawbacks  are  obvious,  seen  in  our  factory 
system  with  its  monotony  of  occupation,  its 
suppression  of  the  individual,  who  becomes  a 
minute  fraction  of  the  whole.  Much  of  the 
work  is  dwarfing,  as  for  example  that  of  the 
man  who  does  one  small  operation  in  the  pro- 
cess of  sharpening  a  pin,  or  that  of  the  girl  who 
sticks  labels  on  boxes  all  the  day  and  every 
day.  In  hardly  any  modern  industry  does  one 
man  begin  and  finish  an  article,  and  thus  much 
of  the  old  artisan's  pride  in  turning  out  a  com- 
plete and  workmanlike  job  is  lost.  There  may 
be  some  satisfaction  in  the  increased  facility 
acquired,  the  ease  with  which  a  movement  is 
repeated,  but  all  must  admit  that  the  system 
is  narrowing  to  the  man  as  compared  with  the 


CULTURE   AND    SPECIALISM  139 

older  ways.  Here  it  may  be  said  with  emphasis 
that  if  these  conditions  are  necessary  and  per- 
manent, as  they  seem  to  be,  then  there  is  all 
the  more  reason  why  the  rest  of  life  should  be 
spent  amid  broader  interests.  Many  men  feel 
that  their  daily  work  does  not  call  out  the  best 
that  is  in  them.  It  is  so  constant  and  invari- 
able that  it  has  become  purely  mechanical.  They 
are  not  asked  to  think,  and  all  that  they  need 
do  at  the  best  in  earning  their  daily  bread  is  to 
use  one  little  lobe  of  their  brain.  The  great 
condemnation  of  much  of  our  industrial  life  is  its 
deadly  monotony.  But  even  so,  without  touching 
commercial  conditions,  there  is  at  least  a  partial 
escape  open  to  every  man.  The  larger  intellec- 
tual life  in  one  or  other  of  its  forms  offers  a 
refuge  and  an  antidote. 

The  tendency  to  which  we  have  referred  is  not 
confined  to  our  industrial  conditions,  but  is  true 
of  all  conditions.  It  is  seen  in  the  sphere  of 
learning,  in  the  professions,  and  literature  and  art 
and  science.  No  lawyer  pretends  to  a  complete 
knowledge  of  law.  Law  has  grown  complex  with 
all  the  complexity  of  society,  and  we  find  a  man 
specialising  in  railway  law,  in  commercial  law, 
and  the  like.  In  medicine  the  same  tendency  is 


I4o  CULTURE  AND   SPECIALISM 

seen.  The  general  practitioner,  who  was  physi- 
cian and  surgeon,  and  dentist  and  oculist,  gives 
place  to  men  who  have  made  themselves  distin- 
guished in  one  department,  specialists  on  eye  or 
ear ;  or  even  a  surgeon  will  practically  do  one 
sort  of  operation  alone,  acquiring  a  skill  and 
deftness  and  unerring  accuracy  in  his  work 
impossible  to  any  but  a  specialist.  The  danger 
here  too  is  to  forget  the  whole  in  the  part,  and 
treat  a  patient  not  as  a  living  man,  but  as  a 
combination  of  organs.  Yet  it  is  a  great  gain  to 
medicine  at  large,  extending  the  bounds  of  know- 
ledge in  that  profession.  In  the  same  way  the 
whole  field  of  knowledge  is  partitioned  out  and 
subdivided.  No  longer  can  any  single  mind 
profess  to  take  all  knowledge  for  its  province. 
The  time  when  a  man  felt  himself  able  to  write  a 
commentary  on  the  whole  Bible  has  passed,  or  is 
passing.  A  Greek  scholar  must  be  content  to 
leave  to  others  the  mastery  of  Hebrew.  Only  on 
one  subject  or  a  department  of  a  subject  can  a 
man  be  an  authority.  Only  to  one  class  of  work 
or  a  branch  of  that  can  he  give  his  life  with  the 
best  results. 

We  may  think  that   in  some  cases  this  limita- 
tion of  work  is  carried  too  far,  as  with  the  scholar 


CULTURE   AND    SPECIALISM  141 

who  died  regretting  that  he  had  not  devoted  his 
life  to  the  dative  case.  This  type  of  scholar  is 
no  modern  appearance  merely.  Montaigne  de- 
scribes the  type  in  his  day :  '  This  man  whom 
about  midnight,  when  others  take  their  rest,  thou 
seest  come  out  of  his  study  meagre-looking,  with 
eyes  thrilling,  phlegmatic,  squalid  and  spauling, 
dost  thou  think  that  plodding  on  his  books  he 
doth  seek  how  he  shall  become  an  honester  man, 
or  more  wise  or  more  content  ?  There  is  no  such 
matter.  He  will  either  die  in  his  pursuit,  or  teach 
posterity  the  measure  of  Plautus'  verse  and  the 
true  orthography  of  a  Latin  word.'  On  the  other 
hand,  it  has  to  be  remembered  that  many  promis- 
ing young  lives  have  come  to  nothing  for  want  of 
a  concentrated  purpose.  It  is  true  that  many  a 
man  has  escaped  being  a  great  man,  as  some  one 
says,  by  splitting  into  two  middling  ones.  Great 
talents  are  often  dissipated  in  a  multiplicity  of 
interests,  when  a  man  with  a  talent  for  concen- 
tration and  perseverance  will  leave  his  mark  in 
one  sphere  of  activity  or  in  one  branch  of  a 
subject.  Giardini,  when  asked  how  long  it  would 
take  to  learn  to  play  on  the  fiddle,  replied  that  it 
would  take  twelve  hours  a  day  for  twenty  years. 
All  men  who  have  been  great  in  their  own  line 


142  CULTURE   AND   SPECIALISM 

have  had  serious  views  of  their  duty  towards  it, 
and  of  the  immense  demands  it  makes  on  its 
followers.  And  it  may  be  taken  as  an  axiom 
that  the  man  who  gives  up  his  whole  time  and 
thought  to  a  pursuit  will  commonly  taste  some 
measure  of  success.  Restriction  of  effort  is  part 
of  the  necessity  of  the  case  with  all  of  us.  To 
make  much  of  life  we  must  give  our  chief  strength 
to  one  or  two  pursuits.  But  this  subdivision, 
besides  the  danger  to  which  we  have  referred  of 
narrowness,  has  also  the  danger  of  taking  the 
trees  for  the  wood,  never  rising  to  the  general 
from  the  mass  of  the  particular. 

The  culture  of  the  body  is  the  perfection  of  its 
health,  by  which  a  man  lives  and  works  with 
ease,  not  sacrificing  eye  for  ear  or  hand  for  foot. 
It  means  a  balance  of  physical  power,  along  with 
a  development  of  any  particular  and  special 
capacity.  A  man  whose  gift  lies  in  delicacy  of 
touch,  by  which  his  fingers  can  do  the  nicest 
mechanical  operations,  is  in  duty  to  the  com- 
munity bound  to  use  his  gift  and  make  that  his 
work.  But  in  duty  to  himself,  and  ultimately 
also  to  the  community,  he  is  bound  not  to  neglect 
the  rest  of  him  to  get  an  abnormal  delicacy  of 
touch.  For  even  the  exactest  fingers  lose  nerve 


CULTURE   AND   SPECIALISM  143 

when  the  body  loses  health.  To  preserve  the 
requisite  balance  is  the  task  of  the  body.  It  is 
so  with  the  mind  also.  Mental  culture  is  the 
perfection  of  intellectual  health.  As  manual 
workers  have  their  one  department,  so  brain 
workers  to  be  truly  successful  must  have  their 
one  sphere.  Here  also  an  unhealthy  mental 
condition  may  arise  from  narrowness.  Oliver 
Wendell  Holmes  has  a  character  in  The  Poet  at 
the  Breakfast  Table  who  gave  up  his  life  to 
the  study  of  beetles.  He  was  a  Coleopterist,  and 
had  no  scientific  interest  in  any  living  things, 
even  crawling  things,  but  beetles.  Even  that 
sphere  was  too  large  for  his  minute  study,  and  he 
specialised  further  and  only  claimed  to  be  an 
authority  on  a  special  kind  of  beetle.  He  was 
a  Coleopterist  who  was  a  Scarabeeist.  He  had  a 
mild  interest  in  the  Lepidoptera,  butterflies  and 
moths;  but  life  was  too  short  for  him  to  really 
know  anything  but  beetles.  The  value  of  such 
quiet,  painstaking  work  in  every  branch  of  human 
knowledge  can  hardly  be  overestimated.  But 
there  is  no  reason  why  the  man  should  be  dwarfed. 
A  man  can  take  a  saner  and  truer  and  more 
scientific  view  of  beetles  who  does  not  altogether 
give  up  his  soul  to  them.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 


144  CULTURE  AND  SPECIALISM 

used  to  say  that  a  man  who  is  at  the  head  of  a 
profession  is  above  it. 

The  advocates  of  an  unmitigated  specialism 
argue  that  the  broadening  of  interests  must  lead 
to  superficiality,  but  often  what  appears  to  be 
superficial  is  really  the  ample  background  of  a 
rich  and  ripe  mind.  We  appreciate  the  value 
of  this  breadth  of  training  if  we  want  a  true 
judgment  on  a  particular  question ;  for  we  find 
a  largeness  of  view  and  a  dispassionateness  of 
mind  which  alone  come  from  wide  knowledge. 
Every  man  also  who  has  lived  the  intellectual 
life  discovers  how  subjects  merge  into  each 
other,  how  separate  sciences  are  branches  of 
the  one  science.  The  student  whose  mind  is 
full  of  a  subject  finds  help  everywhere;  almost 
every  book  he  reads  seems  to  have  bearings  on 
his  subject,  and  no  branch  of  knowledge  comes 
amiss.  It  is  surely  possible  after  all  to  avoid 
the  two  extremes  —  that  of  a  man  who  gives 
up  the  general  for  the  particular,  like  our 
amusing  friend  the  Coleopterist,  and  that  of  a 
man  who  lives  with  vacuous  general  interests 
and  with  no  hold  of  particular  knowledge.  The 
ideal  certainly  is  the  general  along  with  the 
special — knowledge  of  many,  mastery  of  one. 


CULTURE   AND    SPECIALISM  145 

The  practical  difficulty  is  that  in  some  spheres 
the  demands  are  so  insistent  that  a  man  fears 
to  undertake  anything  outside  of  his  work.  This 
one  thing  he  must  do  to  preserve  the  force  of  his 
special  capacity.  The  fear  is  often  ungrounded, 
as  a  generous  culture  should  really  aid  and  not 
hinder  the  technical  skill.  We  must  not  forget 
that  in  a  very  true  sense  a  broad  culture  helps 
even  in  the  special  spheres  of  activity,  for  it 
feeds  and  refreshes  the  mind. 

'Mass  and  meat  hinder  no  man' — that  is,  it  is 
not  waste  of  time  to  do  what  will  in  the  end  aid 
the  capacity  for  working.  There  is  great  truth 
in  the  advice  that  we  must  do  more  things  than 
one  in  order  to  do  that  one  well.  A  genuine 
love  of  intellectual  things  keeps  the  mind  fresh 
and  open  to  influences  other  than  those  our  own 
pursuits  bring.  By  broadening  the  range  of  our 
knowledge  we  increase  the  measure  of  our  sym- 
pathy and  give  new  point  to  our  appreciation. 
It  corrects  the  narrowness  of  our  special  work 
and  the  deficiencies  of  character  which  our  special 
work  often  fosters.  We  come  back  with  new  zest 
and  strength  to  our  definite  tasks  from  every 
excursion  into  the  larger  world  of  life  and 
thought.  '  Many  tastes,  one  hobby '  is  an  old 


146  CULTURE   AND   SPECIALISM 

and  very  good  adage,  especially  if  the  one 
hobby  be  our  life's  work.  The  many  tastes 
bring  relief  and  refreshment,  and  send  us  with 
renewed  power  to  our  work.  Life  can  renew 
itself  from  many  springs  and  drink  from  many 
a  brook  by  the  way.  Every  noble  enlargement 
of  thought  and  experience  should  enrich  our 
capacity  even  for  special  work. 

Gounod  used  to  say  to  his  music  pupils,  'Be 
wider  than  your  calling.'  He  practised  it 
himself,  as  can  be  seen  in  the  breadth  of  his 
literary  and  artistic  and  other  interests,  the  fine 
flavour  of  which  the  keen  ear  can  note  in  his 
music.  Most  of  our  great  musical  composers 
have  been  men  of  varied  culture  and  wide  general 
education.  Mendelssohn  especially  was  a  man 
of  almost  prodigious  versatility  —  an  Admirable 
Crichton  in  his  many-sided  talents  and  accom- 
plishments. The  more  varied  the  intellectual 
resources  are,  and  the  wider  the  range  of  the 
mind,  the  more  chance  there  is  for  a  rich  harvest 
in  the  special  line,  say,  of  music.  Of  course 
there  have  been  exceptions  where  the  native 
genius  has  made  light  of  disabilities,  and  has 
perhaps  brought  a  certain  freshness  and  origi- 
nality most  welcome  to  a  sophisticated  age. 


CULTURE    AND   SPECIALISM  147 

Great  talent  for  any  art  can  overcome  a  pretty 
big  handicap  in  the  race.  At  the  same  time, 
a  lack  of  culture  always  hampers  a  man  in  some 
direction,  and  keeps  him  from  the  wide  appeal  to 
all  classes  of  society,  and  it  certainly  limits  his 
equipment.  A  lack  of  culture  nearly  always 
carries  with  it  a  lack  of  self-criticism ;  for  the 
material  for  true  criticism  is  wanting.  Many 
a  man  has  spent  his  strength  attempting  to  do 
something  which  has  been  done  already,  or,  what 
is  worse,  something  which  has  been  amply  tried 
and  has  been  proved  false.  He  suffers  from  lack 
of  the  general  education  that  at  least  would  have 
enabled  him  to  choose  his  tasks  with  wisdom. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  admitted  that  a 
very  extensive  culture  is  inclined  to  give  a  certain 
pedantry,  and,  perhaps,  a  coldness  of  treatment 
to  an  art.  That,  and  the  danger  of  the  con- 
ventional, are  its  temptations.  But  in  the  long 
run,  a  broad  and  generous  culture  in  touch  with 
the  great  human  interests  will  give  a  man  a 
deeper  insight  into  his  own  work,  and  by  relating 
his  own  small  field  to  the  broad  acres  of  know- 
ledge will  enrich  it  indefinitely.  The  claim  of 
culture  for  a  complete  healthy  development  of 
the  whole  man  comes  with  great  point  to  us.  It 


148  CULTURE  AND   SPECIALISM 

means  the  conscious  training  of  the  mind  by 
which  the  best  results  possible  for  the  individual 
are  reached.  We  do  not  fail  to  recognise  a 
cultured  opinion  on  any  subject,  whether  we 
quite  agree  with  it  or  not.  We  feel  it  to  be  sane 
and  comprehensive,  not  the  fruit  of  narrowness 
or  conceit,  but  the  calm  judgment  of  a  trained 
mind.  It  may  be  true  that  civilisation  demands 
from  us  an  ever-increasing  specialism  of  function, 
but,  asks  Schiller,  '  Can  it  be  intended  that  man 
should  neglect  himself  for  any  particular  design  ? 
Ought  nature  to  deprive  us,  by  its  design,  of 
a  perfection  which  Reason,  by  its  own,  prescribes 
to  us  ?  Then  it  must  be  false  that  the  develop- 
ment of  single  faculties  makes  the  sacrifice  of 
totality  necessary ;  or,  if  indeed  the  law  of  Nature 
presses  so  heavily,  it  becomes  us  to  restore,  by  a 
higher  art,  this  totality  in  our  nature  which  art 
has  destroyed.' 

The  one  great  consolation  for  the  increasing 
specialism  of  function  in  modern  life  is  that  it  is 
a  gain  for  society  at  large  and  for  knowledge  in 
general.  The  individual  may  suffer,  but  the 
larger  life  is  enriched,  and  through  that  even  the 
individual  gains.  Social  progress  depends  on 
this  narrowing  of  personal  opportunity.  When 


CULTURE   AND    SPECIALISM  149 

a  single  man  did  everything  for  himself  he 
probably  had  a  more  all-round  development,  but 
civilisation  was  at  a  standstill.  There  could  be 
little  general  social  advance  without  the  appor- 
tioning of  special  spheres  of  work  and  interest. 
The  division  of  labour  means  greater  complexity 
of  society.  Herein  lies  the  great  compensa- 
tion for  the  specialism  which  in  some  ways  we 
are  compelled  to  deplore.  We  need  to  take 
larger  views  than  of  any  self-advantage  or  even 
self-culture,  and  look  upon  ourselves  as  part 
of  a  great  organic  whole,  serving  a  useful  func- 
tion in  the  life  of  the  world.  The  unit  is 
no  longer  the  individual,  but  the  race.  We 
have  each  a  contribution  to  make,  a  place  to 
fill,  a  work  to  perform.  The  selfish  life  is  the 
one  damning  offence.  If  the  individual  withers 
that  the  race  may  grow,  if  social  progress  de- 
pends on  our  becoming  more  than  ever  a  little 
bit  of  the  great  machine,  we  can  turn  even  this 
necessity  into  a  great  privilege,  and  can  bring 
into  our  lives  a  new  breadth  of  view  which  itself 
means  culture.  Our  ideal  will  become  the  con- 
secration of  intellect  and  of  all  capacity  by  which 
it  is  dedicated  to  service.  This  consecration 
will  save  us  from  pettiness  and  will  extend  our 


ISO  CULTURE   AND   SPECIALISM 

vision.  It  is  enough  for  the  eye  that  it  serves 
the  best  life  of  a  man :  it  should  be  enough  for  a 
man  that  he  is  able  to  serve  in  some  fashion  the 
best  life  of  the  world.  Childish  vanity  of  one's 
own  gift,  or  insolent  contempt  of  the  gifts  of 
others,  become  impossible;  for  we  will  see  how 
wide  and  varied  service  may  be.  In  the  richness 
of  human  life  as  a  whole  we  will  partake  and  get 
our  share  of  the  general  gains.  If  we  are  con- 
sciously consecrating  ourselves,  we  will  grow  into 
some  largeness  of  nature.  If  we  see  the  true 
nobility  of  service,  and  are  humbly  desirous  of 
finding  a  place  to  serve,  all  petty  pride  in  our  own 
gifts  or  all  fretful  repining  for  the  lack  of  them 
will  pass  from  us.  We  will  gladly  see  the  place 
for  all  sorts  of  true  work  in  every  sphere  of 
activity.  It  takes  many  kinds  of  men  to  make  a 
world.  We  see  how  eye  and  ear  and  foot  and 
hand  in  the  social  body  have  their  place  and 
their  duties  and  their  rights.  We  see  the  need 
for,  and  the  dignity  of,  all  true  work  of  every  kind. 
Commerce,  industry,  science,  art,  literature,  are  all 
contributing  to  the  good  of  the  whole.  To  have 
attained  this  point  of  view  is  itself  to  have  at- 
tained culture,  which  sees  the  place  of  the  part 
in  the  whole.  There  is  room  for  the  scholar  and 


CULTURE   AND    SPECIALISM  151 

the  statesman,  the  artist  and  the  artisan,  the  man 
of  business  and  the  poet  — 

When  God  helps  all  the  workers  for  His  world, 
The  singers  shall  have  help  of  Him,  not  last. 

There  is  no  culture  like  this  generous  tolerance, 
and  broad  tender  sympathy,  which  come  from 
the  consecrated  view  of  life. 


CULTURE  OF   IMAGINATION 


<To  see  a  world  fa  a  grain  of  sand, 

And  a  heaven  in  a  wild  flower, 
Hold  infinity  in  the  palm  of  your  hand, 
And  Eternity  in  an  hour.' 

—  WILLIAM  BLAKE. 


CHAPTER   VI 

CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION 

T  IMAGINATION  as  a  faculty  has  suffered  from 
*-  both  inaccuracy  of  language  and  inaccuracy 
of  thought.  In  common  speech  it  is  largely  used 
for  the  unreal  and  often  for  the  untrue.  We 
use  it  colloquially  to  mean  baseless  and  fanciful 
things,  and  even  erroneous  thoughts.  We  say 
that  a  man's  troubles  are  imaginary,  as  much  as 
to  say  that  they  do  not  exist.  It  suffers  also 
more  than  the  ordinary  fate  of  language,  which 
is  always  in  danger  of  being  rubbed  down  and 
vulgarised  and  emptied  of  its  original  meaning. 
Our  prevalent  inaccuracy  of  thought  adds  an- 
other misapprehension.  With  our  materialistic 
standard  we  judge  things  by  their  appearance, 
and  the  things  which  do  not  appear  are  assumed 
not  to  exist.  We  call  material  things  the  real, 
and  the  ideal  we  call  an  imagination,  meaning 
that  it  is  something  unreal.  But  the  material  is 


156  CULTURE  OF   IMAGINATION 

after  all  the  fleeting  and  transitory,  while  the 
unsubstantial  is  the  truly  permanent.  The  per- 
manent thing  in  everything  is  the  unseen  part 
of  it.  The  sound  of  the  word  dies  upon  the 
passing  wind,  and  the  thought  it  carries  lives. 
The  outward  form  of  music  is  momentary, 
and  the  beautiful  conception  remains.  The 
canvas  fades  and  the  stone  crumbles,  but  the 
vision  in  the  soul  of  the  artist  dies  not.  The 
world  of  sense  and  sight  and  sound  is  only 
appearance,  but  the  thought  of  it  is  fact.  The 
material  changes  ever ;  but  the  spiritual,  the  as- 
piration, the  ideal,  the  imagination  lives  in  endless 
life. 

Imagination  is  a  necessary  part  of  man's  equip- 
ment, and  is  capable  of  culture,  and  therefore  it  is 
our  duty  to  give  it  room  and  opportunity  to  grow. 
Even  when  we  prize  imagination  and  make  it  the 
test  of  the  highest  forms  of  art,  we  are  inclined 
to  omit  the  duty  of  its  culture.  We  think  it  to 
be  like  genius,  a  gift  which  cannot  be  cultivated. 
But  even  genius  is  not  a  difference  in  kind,  but  in 
degree.  It  does  not  mean  another  sort  of  flesh 
and  blood,  another  sort  of  head  and  heart.  It  is 
a  finer  quality  of  nerve  and  brain.  Indeed  it 
may  be  said  to  be  a  deeper  and  truer  and  more 


CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION  157 

profound  imaginative  faculty.  It  is  true  that 
some  have  more  than  others,  but  that  is  no 
reason  why  the  less  gifted  should  despair  of 
the  culture  of  what  they  really  possess.  Some 
men  have  more  and  better  knit  muscle  than 
others,  but  most  of  us  make  shift  to  walk  some- 
how, and  on  occasion  to  run,  though  not  perhaps 
with  the  ease  and  grace  of  a  great  athlete.  If  we 
have  no  imagination  at  all,  then  it  must  be  a  lost 
art  or  an  atrophied  power,  for  every  child  has  it. 
We  see  it  in  almost  every  nursery  game,  in  their 
make-belief,  in  their  pretty  fancies  about  animals, 
in  their  charming  acting  of  parts,  in  their  instinct 
for  the  dramatic,  in  their  love  of  fairy  tales. 
Romance  is  a  child's  natural  food.  Watch  a 
little  maiden  playing  with  her  dolls,  investing 
them  with  life,  composing  dialogues  for  them ; 
or  watch  a  boy  fancying  himself  the  engineer  of 
a  railway  train,  or  the  general  of  an  army ;  or 
notice  their  complete  withdrawal  from  the  world 
as  they  live  through  every  incident  of  a  story ; 
and  you  must  admit  that  imagination  is  the  ear- 
liest and  the  strongest  faculty  of  childhood.  It 
is  the  age  of  fancy  and  mystery  and  poetry.  A 
mother  reading  a  poem  to  a  boy  of  six  said,  'I 
am  afraid  you  can't  understand  it,  dear,'  and 


158  CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION 

was  promptly  rebuked  for  her  unbelief  when  he 
replied,  '  Oh,  yes,  I  can  very  well,  if  only  you 
would  not  explain.' l  The  poem  brought  its  own 
train  of  thought  to  him,  its  own  suggestions,  its 
own  series  of  images.  It  was  not  her  train  of 
thought,  and  hers  only  disturbed  his.  We  often 
hurt  the  tender  feelings  of  a  child,  and  help  to 
kill  the  imaginative  faculty  by  our  scepticism  and 
cynicism  and  impatience.  It  is  as  natural  a  gift 
as  reason,  and  has  its  part  to  play  in  the  making 
of  a  true  life.  When  it  is  lost,  and  a  man  be- 
comes a  literalist,  we  appreciate  what  a  gift  it 
is.  The  literalist  will  solemnly  argue  about  a 
joke,  and  ponderously  explain  a  fancy.  He 
swells  the  great  army  of  the  world's  bores.  We 
have  all  met  the  matter-of-fact  man,  like  the  one 
Douglas  Jerrold  tells  of,  who,  if  you  talked  to 
him  of  Jacob's  ladder,  would  ask  the  number  of 
the  steps. 

Imagination  is  one  of  the  finest  gifts  of  mind 
and  can  do  much  to  make  life  happy.  We  have 
a  wonderful  power  of  losing  self  in  ideal  scenes, 
and  can  transform  dull  reality  with  beauty. 
Amid  the  commonplace  or  even  the  painful,  we 
give  rein  to  imagination  and  are  off  to  fairer 

1  Sully,  Studies  of  Childhood,  p.  56. 


CULTURE    OF    IMAGINATION  159 

realms.  This  power  of  putting  ourselves  in 
other  circumstances  gives  us  a  magic  touch, 
which  is  a  real  remedy  for  many  an  evil  of  our 
lot.  Imagination  also  is  helpful  to  all  the  other 
faculties.  Even  humour  seems  dependent  on  it ; 
for  both  the  pathos  and  the  humour  of  life 
are  due  to  the  discrepancy  between  the  real 
and  the  ideal.  We  see  the  real,  and  through 
imagination  we  see  the  ideal,  and  the  contrast 
is  sometimes  pathetic  and  sometimes  humorous. 
All  poetry  and  all  art  are  children  of  imagina- 
tion. To  cut  off  the  imaginative  life  would  be 
to  make  the  world  poorer  to  us  all.  Imagina- 
tion is  the  window  which  lets  in  light  to  the 
sombre  house  of  life.  As  a  rule,  we  have  not 
enough  window-space  to  keep  life  moderately 
healthy.  There  is  a  light  that  never  was  on 
sea  or  land,  and  the  man  who  sees  it  can  never 
rest  in  the  sordidness  of  the  usual.  He  has  seen 
enough  of  the  vision  to  keep  him  from  losing 
his  heart  to  what  is  base.  If  through  the  pas- 
sion of  a  great  ideal  or  through  the  vision  of  a 
beautiful  future  he  misses  what  the  world  calls 
success,  his  life  is  not  necessarily  a  failure. 
'That  man,'  said  Lessing,  'makes  noble  ship- 
wreck who  is  lost  in  seeking  worlds.'  If  the 


160  CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION 

imaginative  life  can  save  the  soul  from  acqui- 
escence in  the  sordid,  it  well  merits  all  the 
culture  we  can  give  it.  The  highest  accuracy 
of  impression  and  even  the  truest  accuracy  of 
history  are  often  attained  by  the  poet  rather 
than  by  the  word-grubbing  scholar.  Truth  is 
not  formal  but  vital,  and  if  the  poet's  version  be 
not  exact  in  detail,  it  may  be  true  in  spirit. 
Fact  may  be  correctly  stated  in  the  fullest  detail 
and  yet  be  false.  'The  imagination  may  be 
compared  to  Adam's  dream :  he  awoke  and  found 
it  truth.'1  That  is  why  the  seer  and  the  poet 
are  needed  to  interpret  life ;  for  they  get  to 
the  heart  of  an  incident  when  others  are  only 
fumbling  at  the  fringe.  The  highest  truths  are 
not  reached  by  analysis,  and  the  deepest  appeal 
is  not  made  to  logic.  We  may  dissect  and  dis- 
solve and  analyse  and  get  at  many  a  hidden 
fact  by  the  way,  while  the  secret  has  vanished. 
The  life  and  meaning  and  flavour  and  vital 
breath  elude  prosaic  methods.  To  imagination 
we  owe  all  our  creative  arts,  poetry  and  painting 
and  music. 

Without    it    even    science    itself   would    be   a 
gathering  of  observations  and  chaotic  facts  lack- 
1  Keats. 


CULTURE    OF   IMAGINATION  161 

ing  order  or  meaning  or  law.  The  prosaic 
observer  may  make  the  most  careful  observa- 
tions, but  it  needs  a  higher  faculty  to  set  the 
observations  in  their  true  relations  and  to  make 
order  and  beauty  out  of  the  mass.  Most  of  the 
great  discoveries  in  science  have  been  made  by 
this  power  to  imagine  unseen  conditions.  The 
mere  observer  of  nature  is  smothered  by  details, 
a  confused  crowd  of  phenomena,  and  it  needs 
the  man  of  inductive  and  intuitive  genius  to 
reach  the  natural  law  which  includes  and  ex- 
plains them.  There  must  be  in  scientific  research 
accurate  observation  and  careful  arrangement 
of  facts,  but  every  step  in  advance  is  attained 
by  a  great  imaginative  effort  which  takes  an 
unproved  working  hypothesis  and  applies  it  to 
the  facts.  A  whole  chapter  might  be  written 
on  the  place  of  imagination  in  the  sphere  of  the 
exact  sciences,  and  on  the  mistakes  which  have 
been  made  here  through  deficient  imagination. 
All  great  scientists  have  had  something  of  the 
poetic  vision.  The  Copernican  astronomy,  the 
law  of  gravitation,  all  wide  syntheses  of  the  facts 
of  nature,  began  with  assumptions  and  were 
the  fruit  of  scientific  imagination.  The  most 
fertile  work  of  our  day  in  the  region  of  biology 


162  CULTURE   OF  IMAGINATION 

has  been  done  on  the  hypothesis  of  evolution. 
To  banish  imagination  from  science  would  be 
to  deprive  it  of  its  chief  instrument. 

Morality,  also,  divorced  from  it  becomes  mere 
legalism,  the  formal  working  of  a  puppet-show. 
Prosaic  morality  means  either  moderatism  or 
pharisaism,  unattractive,  and  in  the  true  sense 
unreal.  As  Thackeray  with  one  of  his  keen 
thrusts  of  genial  cynicism  says,  'The  bad  do 
much  harm,  but  no  one  knows  how  much  evil 
the  good  do.'  There  are  endless  illustrations 
in  this  region  of  how  the  letter  kills  and  the 
spirit  alone  can  give  life.  As  for  theology,  it 
has  too  often  been  cursed  by  the  barrenness  of 
the  commonplace.  Unimaginative  theology  has 
been  a  fearful  weight  on  the  Church.  In  ex- 
egesis and  interpretation  and  exhortation,  an 
ounce  of  poetry  often  outvalues  a  bushel  of 
some  other  theological  qualities.  Sanctified  im- 
agination is  the  great  ally  of  religion.  It  gives 
the  wings  for  the  higher  flight  of  the  spirit 
of  man.  The  world  will  never  be  without 
its  witness  to  the  unseen.  The  wind  bloweth 
where  it  listeth,  convincing  the  world  of  God. 
If  we  had  more  imagination  we  would  have 
more  faith.  We  would  not  mistake  the  place 


CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION  163 

and  power  of  religion,  and  we   would    never   get 
very  far  from  God  — 

As  German  Boehme  never  cared  for  plants 
Until  it  happed,  a-walking  in  the  fields, 
He  noticed  all  at  once  that  plants  could  speak, 
Nay,  turned  with  loosened  tongue  to  talk  with  him. 
That  day  the  daisy  had  an  eye  indeed.1 

Thus  the  value  of  the  imagination  is  not 
restricted  to  the  poet  and  novelist  and  dramatist, 
but  is  needed  for  all  forms  of  intellectual  effort. 
It  is  of  use  to  the  historian  and  the  statesman, 
no  less  than  to  the  man  of  science  and  the 
theologian.  In  the  reconstruction  of  a  scene  of 
the  past,  in  revealing  the  steps  by  which  a  social 
or  political  change  came  about,  how  institu- 
tions grew  and  withered,  how  empires  rose 
and  fell,  the  social  conditions  of  a  former  age, 
all  these  need  an  imaginative  representation. 
The  most  careful  sifting  of  evidence  and  verify- 
ing of  fact,  and  the  most  formidable  array  of 
authorities,  will  not  reconstruct  for  us  any  scene 
of  history  without  the  illumination  of  imagina- 
tion. The  statesman,  too,  must  use  this  gift 
if  he  is  to  be  more  than  an  opportunist.  He 
must  have  some  vision  of  the  large  issues  at 

1  Browning,  Men  and  Women  — '  1  ranscendentalism. ' 


1 64  CULTURE  OF   IMAGINATION 

stake,  and  make  some  forecast  of  state  policy 
if  he  would  have  any  sort  of  permanent  success. 
Philosophy  would  have  been  saved  from  some 
of  its  errors  if  it  had  been  sometimes  a  little 
less  prosaic.  Materialism  as  a  philosophical 
theory,  as  well  as  a  practical  scheme  of  living, 
is  due  to  a  want  of  imagination.  It  shuts  the 
eyes  to  the  whole  course  of  man's  religious 
history,  and  to  the  spiritual  facts  which  are  as 
truly  facts  as  any  on  the  plane  of  material 
science.  Romanes,  who  gave  his  life  to  science, 
wrote  as  one  of  his  last  judgments :  '  It  is  much 
more  easy  to  disbelieve  than  to  believe.  This 
is  obvious  on  the  side  of  reason,  but  it  is  also 
true  on  that  of  spirit,  for  to  disbelieve  is  in 
accordance  with  environment  or  custom,  while 
to  believe  necessitates  a  spiritual  use  of  the 
imagination.  For  both  these  reasons,  very  few 
unbelievers  have  any  justification,  either  intel- 
lectual or  spiritual,  for  their  own  unbelief. 
Unbelief  is  usually  due  to  indolence,  often  to 
prejudice,  and  never  a  thing  to  be  proud  of.' J 

In  the  conduct  of  ordinary  life  we  are  more 
indebted  to  imagination  than  perhaps  we  think. 
Memory  is  a  form  of  imagination,  without  which 

1  Thoughts  en  Religion,  p.  144. 


CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION  165 

the  past  would  be  a  blank.  It  is  reproductive 
imagination,  the  power  of  reproducing  a  mental 
image  of  what  has  occurred.  The  creative  im- 
agination is  the  faculty  of  the  poet,  the  power  of 
making  new  images,  of  combining  into  beautiful 
forms  the  ideal  aspects  of  life  — 

And  as  imagination  bodies  forth 

The  forms  of  things  unknown,  the  poet's  pen 

Turns  them  to  shapes. 

It  may  be  said  that  the  differences  of  intellect  in 
men  are  differences  of  imagination.  To  all  who 
live  at  the  same  period  there  is  a  great  common 
body  of  thought.  We  have  most  things  in 
common,  and  variety  is  created  by  the  way 
we  use  our  heritage.  It  is  imagination  which 
gives  distinction  and  colour  and  individuality 
to  thought.  A  man  takes  of  the  common 
stock  and  appropriates  it,  makes  it  his  own 
by  investing  it  with  his  imagination,  as  Shake- 
speare took  the  plots  and  stories  and  even  the 
plays  of  his  predecessors  and  made  everything 
'suffer  a  sea  change  into  something  rich  and 
strange,'  or  as  Burns  took  the  songs  of  his 
country  and  re-created  them  by  the  heat  of 
his  own  heart. 

Still  further  in  ordinary  life  we  see  that  the 


166  CULTURE  OF   IMAGINATION 

divine  quality  of  sympathy  is  the  fruit  of  im- 
agination, by  which  we  put  ourselves  in  the 
place  of  others  and  feel  with  them  and  there- 
fore for  them.  Shelley  in  his  Defence  of  Poetry 
said,  'A  man  to  be  greatly  good  must  imagine 
intensely  and  comprehensively ;  he  must  put 
himself  into  the  place  of  another  and  of  many 
others ;  the  pains  and  pleasures  of  his  species 
must  become  his  own.'  Most  of  men's  cruelty 
and  callousness  is  due  to  lack  of  imagination, 
to  an  incapacity  to  understand  feelings  different 
from  our  own.  We  are  not  able  to  project 
ourselves  into  the  situation  of  others,  or  we 
could  never  fail  of  sympathy.  The  world  cannot 
understand  a  poet  going  half  mad  with  grief 
and  indignation  at  the  sorrows  and  shames  of 
a  butchered  Armenia,  because  the  world  has 
too  dense  and  dull  a  soul  to  enable  it  to  really 
appreciate  the  deeds  of  horror.  True  imagina- 
tion is  the  great  ally  on  the  side  of  God  to 
fight  against  selfishness.  We  would  love  our 
neighbour  as  ourselves,  if  only  we  could  imagine 
him  as  easily  as  we  can  think  of  ourselves. 
Sympathy  begins  by  an  imaginative  getting 
out  of  self  and  getting  into  the  place  of  another. 
We  become  him  for  the  time.  If  he  is  in  pain, 


CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION  167 

we  have  some  idea  of  what  he  is  suffering.  We 
feel  what  we  imagine  he  feels.  We  can  be 
accurately  said  to  share  his  experience.  Much 
of  the  smallness  and  meanness  of  life  results 
from  narrowing  the  horizon  and  restricting  the 
vision  to  the  bounds  of  self.  Our  hearts  would 
be  enlarged  if  our  imagination  were  kept  bright 
and  active.  We  sympathise  with  that  which 
we  are  able  to  picture  to  ourselves.  To  see  a 
child  run  over  in  the  street  fills  us  with  grief, 
and  with  desire  to  help.  We  know  theoretically 
that  children  in  India  in  a  time  of  famine  must 
suffer  much  greater  pain ;  or  we  know  that  in 
all  our  cities  the  cry  of  the  children  goes  up 
to  God  for  their  joyless,  woful  youth  —  we 
know  it  when  some  specially  bad  case  is  un- 
earthed by  the  Society  for  the  Prevention  of 
Cruelty  to  Children,  —  but  we  have  not  enough 
imagination  to  give  us  more  than  a  spasmodic 
sympathy  in  both  cases.  Imagination  is  thus 
the  great  social  faculty  which  binds  us  to  each 
other.  It  needs  culture,  and  can  be  cultivated 
as  all  other  faculties  are  cultivated  —  by  use. 
We  must  not  steel  our  hearts  against  the  joy 
and  sorrow  of  others.  Try,  for  example,  to 
realise  the  feelings  of  your  friends  and  intimates 


168  CULTURE  OF  IMAGINATION 

and  neighbours;  try  to  picture  to  yourself  what 
a  certain  word  or  a  certain  line  of  action  will 
mean  to  them ;  try  to  imagine  how  you  can 
bring  light  or  gloom,  pleasure  or  pain,  and 
you  will  develop  tact,  which  is  just  the  faculty 
of  touch,  fineness  of  sensation,  which  will  keep 
you  from  hurting  any  human  soul. 

In  religion  there  is  room  for  the  use  of 
imagination.  It  is  that  which  enables  us  to 
see  past  the  forms  and  externals  of  faith  and 
worship  to  the  spirit  within.  All  kinds  of 
idolatry  are  due  to  too  little,  and  not  too 
much,  imagination.  In  the  early  church  an 
image  was  only  a  symbol,  and  the  spiritual 
man  never  dreamed  of  worshipping  the  image 
but  only  used  it  to  assist  him  to  think  of  the 
reality  for  which  the  symbol  stood.  But  the 
prosaic  soul  soon  mistook  the  form  for  the  sub- 
stance. Religion  always  suffers  from  the  lack 
of  imagination.  If  we  had  more  of  the  poetic 
power  of  faith,  we  would  see  without  needing 
so  much  prompting  and  directing.  If  imagina- 
tion is  as  the  window  which  lets  in  light  to 
the  house,  then  sanctified  imagination  is  as  the 
coloured  windows  of  a  great  cathedral  which 
flood  the  place  with  glory  and  stain  the  noble 


CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION  169 

pillars.  The  high  realms  of  faith  can  only  be 
explored  by  the  sanctified  imagination.  Imag- 
ination gives  wings  to  thought,  enables  it  to 
soar,  and  keeps  it  from  grovelling  in  the  dust. 
Faith  is  glorified  imagination,  which  embodies 
the  unseen  and  gives  shape  to  the  unknown. 

Think  of  Christ's  use  of  the  imagination.  He 
used  it  continually  in  His  teaching,  which  was 
ever  the  poetic  expression  of  truth.  He  spoke 
in  parables  in  which  all  nature  is  made  to 
preach,  the  corn  and  the  lilies,  and  the  trees 
and  the  birds.  The  great  lesson  of  His  teach- 
ing and  the  great  purpose  of  His  life  was  to  get 
men  to  imagine  the  infinite  love  of  God.  If  we 
would  strive  to  comprehend  that  wondrous  con- 
ception, if  we  would  give  ourselves  to  the  thought 
of  it,  if  we  would  steep  our  souls  in  it,  if  we 
would  live  in  it  by  day  and  dream  of  it  by 
night,  we  would  keep  God  in  our  lives.  If  we 
would  but  imagine  the  love  of  God,  dwell  on 
it,  hug  the  thought  of  it  to  our  heart,  life 
would  be  a  home  to  us  instead  of  a  mere 
shelter.  The  house  of  life  would  be  a  home, 
not  bare  walls,  but  a  place  where  love  dwells ; 
and  sanctified  imagination  would  hang  in  the 
chambers  of  the  house  pictures  of  the  good, 


iyo  CULTURE   OF  IMAGINATION 

the  beautiful,  the  true.  It  is  the  vision  and 
not  the  possession  which  gives  life  its  value,  the 
quest  and  not  the  conquest,  the  attempt  and  not 
the  attainment,  the  dream  and  not  the  fulfilment, 
the  aspiration  and  not  the  achievement. 

This  spiritual  imagination  can  be  cultivated 
as  poetic  imagination  can  be.  The  culture  of 
the  imagination  is  the  culture  of  the  ideal.  It 
is  the  culture  of  faith  and  the  culture  of 
prayer.  If  we  imagine  the  love  of  God,  if  we 
pray  for  the  mind  of  the  Master,  if  in  every 
difficulty  we  stop  to  think  what  He  would  have 
done  and  said,  if  we  make  His  teaching  and 
will  and  life  the  test  and  example,  if  we  keep 
ever  the  vision  of  Christ  before  us,  we  will 
live  the  higher  imaginative  life,  not  always 
down  among  the  dust  and  sordidness  of  the 
world,  but  sometimes  among  the  angels  and 
the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect.  It  purifies 
passion  and  cleanses  the  heart  even  to  go  with 
Him  in  fancy  through  His  earthly  life,  and  to 
realise  that  He  is  the  same  to-day  in  nature 
and  in  purpose,  to  live  with  Him  over  again 
in  His  life  in  Galilee  and  Jerusalem,  to  follow 
Him  from  Nazareth  to  Capernaum,  to  Bethany, 
to  Samaria,  to  Gethsemane,  to  make  it  all  real 


CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION  171 

to  us,  and  then  realise  that  He  is  as  He  was, 
and  so  practise  the  presence  of  Christ  with  us 
to-day.  '  Methought  I  was  as  if  I  had  seen  Him 
born,'  says  John  Bunyan  in  Grace  Abounding, 
'as  if  I  had  seen  Him  grow  up,  as  if  I  had  seen 
Him  walk  through  this  world  from  the  cradle 
to  the  cross,  to  which  also  when  He  came  I 
saw  how  gently  He  gave  Himself  to  be  hanged 
and  nailed  on  it  for  my  sins  and  wicked  doing. 
Also  as  I  was  musing  on  this  His  progress 
it  dropped  on  my  spirit  that  He  was  ordained 
for  the  slaughter.  When  I  have  considered 
also  the  truth  of  His  resurrection,  I  have  seen 
as  if  He  had  leaped  out  of  the  grave's  mouth 
for  joy  that  He  was  risen  again  and  had  got 
the  conquest  over  our  dreadful  foes.'  Browning 
might  have  been  translating  these  words  of 
Bunyan  into  poetry,  as  he  was  certainly  ex- 
pressing the  same  thought  in  the  passage  — 

Oft  have  I  stood  by  Thee  — 
Have  I  been  keeping  lonely  watch  by  Thee  — 
In  the  damp  night  by  weeping  Olivet, 
Or  leaning  on  Thy  bosom,  proudly  less, 
Or  dying  with  Thee  on  the  lonely  cross, 
Or  witnessing  Thy  bursting  from  the  tomb. 

There  is  another   side  to  the   consideration    of 
this   high   subject  which   shows    us   the   need   of 


172  CULTURE  OF  IMAGINATION 

wise  training  and  guidance.  Like  the  other  great 
gifts  of  man,  imagination  has  suffered  in  the 
house  of  its  friends.  There  is  no  human  faculty 
which  has  been  looked  more  askance  on  and  been 
more  condemned.  The  attack  has  come  from 
three  very  commanding  quarters.  It  has  been 
carried  on  in  the  name  of  morality  and  philosophy 
and  religion. 

Morally,  the  imagination  is  seen  to  be  the 
seat  of  all  evil.  Sin  is  conceived  there  and 
harboured  there  before  it  is  brought  out  into 
the  open  as  full-blown  fact.  A  great  moral 
writer  in  his  impeachment  of  the  imagination 
has  declared,  'Here  is  the  devil's  lurking-place, 
the  very  nest  of  foul  and  delusive  spirits.'  To 
the  moralist,  therefore,  it  often  appears  as  the 
seat  of  evil  and  only  evil,  the  breeding-place  of 
all  the  sins.  Temptation  comes  by  presenting 
to  the  imagination  in  a  pleasing  and  alluring 
fashion  sinful  acts.  The  psychology  of  sin  is 
thus  stated  by  St.  James,  '  Every  man  is  tempted 
when  he  is  drawn  away  of  his  own  lust  and  en- 
ticed. Then  when  lust  hath  conceived,  it  bringeth 
forth  sin.'  Evil  enters  the  mind  by  suggestion, 
by  playing  on  the  fancy.  It  captures  the  will 
and  the  heart  through  the  imagination.  Evil 


CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION  173 

thoughts,     dallied     with     and      made     welcome, 
blossom  into  evil  deeds. 

By  the  philosopher  also  imagination  sometimes 
is  taken  to  be  the  one  and  inveterate  foe  of  reason, 
keeping  back  the  progress  of  truth  by  creating 
a  fanciful  region  where  a  man  can  find  a  spurious 
peace  from  troublesome  thought.  Pascal  calls  it 
'  that  deceitful  part  of  man,  the  mistress  of  error 
and  falsity,  the  more  knavish  that  she  is  not 
always  so,  or  she  would  be  an  infallible  rule  of 
truth  if  only  she  were  an  infallible  rule  of  lying.' 
To  him  it  is  a  proud  potentate  who  loves  to  rule 
and  dominate  over  its  enemy,  reason.  When 
reason  would  make  a  man  unhappy,  and  by  the 
very  pain  lead  to  truer  thinking  and  sounder 
living,  imagination  will  sometimes  bring  content- 
ment and  so  triumph  over  reason.  Buckle,  in  his 
History  of  Civilisation,  while  admitting  that  in  a 
complete,  well  balanced  mind  the  imagination 
and  the  understanding  have  each  their  respective 
parts  to  play  and  are  auxiliary  to  each  other, 
thinks  it  undoubtedly  true  that  in  a  majority  of 
instances  the  understanding  is  too  weak  to  curb 
the  imagination  and  restrain  its  dangerous 
licence.  He  believes  that  the  tendency  of  ad- 
vancing civilisation  is  to  remedy  this  dispropor- 


174  CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION 

tion  and  to  invest  the  reasoning  powers  with 
authority  at  the  expense  of  the  imagination. 

By  the  theologian  also  it  has  been  condemned 
as  the  cause  of  the  delusions  and  the  lying  visions 
and  the  ecstatic  impressions  which  lead  men 
astray  into  all  sorts  of  unstrung  and  hysterical 
states.  Jonathan  Edwards  speaks  strongly  of  the 
delusions  in  religion  fostered  by  trusting  to  the 
impressions  made  on  the  imagination,  and  thinks 
that  though  often  at  first  it  seems  to  beget  a  per- 
suasion of  the  truth  of  invisible  things,  yet  the  ulti- 
mate tendency  is  to  draw  men  off  from  the  word 
of  God  and  to  cause  them  to  reject  true  religion. 

Now,  there  would  not  be  such  a  remarkable 
condemnation  if  there  were  not  some  ground  of 
accusation.  It  would  not  be  easy  to  account  for 
so  virulent  a  charge  by  so  many  and  so  great 
thinkers,  if  there  were  not  facts  which  give  colour 
to  it  even  though  it  be  accepted  as  a  one-sided 
statement.  There  is  at  least  enough  to  make 
us  convinced  that,  while  imagination  has  a  true 
and  strong  place  in  life  and  religion,  and  while 
the  duty  of  its  culture  is  plain,  there  is  an  equal 
necessity  for  its  adequate  control.  Imagination 
must  of  course  be  accepted  like  all  the  other 
qualities  of  mind.  No  alarmist  talk  of  its  danger, 


CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION  175 

either  in  the  name  of  reason  or  morality  or  re- 
ligion, can  alter  the  fact.  It  can  put  us  on  our 
guard  that  we  may  avoid  its  abuse,  but  unless  we 
stultify  our  whole  intellectual  life  we  must  be 
content  to  possess  imagination  as  one  of  the 
gifts  of  mind.  Not  only  so,  but,  as  we  have  seen, 
it  is  the  highest  and  most  precious  attribute  we 
have.  No  danger  of  its  misuse  could  warrant 
anything  like  an  attempt  at  extinction  of  this 
faculty.  Even  if  it  were  possible,  the  policy  of 
repression  in  itself  is  a  failure.  Its  fruits  may 
sometimes  be  vagueness  and  obscurity,  or  ex- 
travagance and  hysteria,  or  worse  still,  morbidness 
and  disease.  But  with  all  our  gifts  we  must  take 
the  thick  and  the  thin  together.  When  we  call 
attention  to  abuse,  we  do  not  mean  to  deny  use ; 
when  we  point  to  disease,  we  do  not  condemn 
health.  The  power  of  use  implies  the  possibility 
of  abuse.  The  place  of  imagination  in  art  and 
life  and  religion  is  secure,  and  we  only  help  to 
make  it  more  secure  when  we  truly  discriminate ; 
and  we  make  its  culture  more  possible  for  our- 
selves and  for  all  when  we  use  restraint.  There 
can  be  no  true  discipline  and  education  of 
imagination  without  strong  control  of  it.  The 
training  of  the  imagination  is  necessary  for  its 


176  CULTURE  OF   IMAGINATION 

own  best  life  as  well  as  for  our  character.  The 
depraving  effect  of  a  corrupt  imagination  has 
many  illustrations  in  every  region  of  life. 

In  this  connection  we  naturally  think  first 
of  the  huge  place  which  the  literature  of  fiction 
has  taken  in  our  time.  It  has  earned  its  place 
as  a  great  instrument  for  the  interpretation  of 
life,  and  plays  a  large  part  in  mental  recreation. 
We  know  the  value  of  romance  when  it  is  the 
healthy  expression  of  a  healthy  imagination,  but 
we  cannot  fail  to  know  the  blighting,  polluting 
power  it  has  when  it  has  ceased  to  be  healthy. 
So  much  so,  that  we  can  understand  the  mood  of 
mind  which  makes  the  moralist  who  is  a  lover  of 
his  kind  speak  as  though  he  would  sweep  the 
whole  art  from  the  life  of  a  man.  It  is  rather 
strange  that  in  defence  of  evil  literature,  the  claim 
of  realism  should  be  made  on  behalf  of  what 
is  admittedly  a  purely  imaginative  art.  Want 
of  art  is  often  responsible  for  what  passes  for 
realism.  It  is  want  of  creative  imagination, 
and  that  means  lack  of  the  capacity  for  the 
business  the  writers  have  taken  in  hand.  They 
speak  of  transcripts  from  life,  but  life  is  not  so 
mean  and  stupid  as  such  art  sometimes  makes 
it.  George  Meredith,  who  will  be  accepted  as  a 


CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION  177 

master,  calls  it  'soundings  and  probings  of  poor 
humanity  which  the  world  accepts  for  the  very 
bottom-truth  if  their  dredge  brings  up  sheer 
refuse  of  the  abominable.  The  world  imagines 
those  to  be  at  our  nature's  depth  who  are  im- 
pudent enough  to  expose  its  muddy  shallows. 
It  is  true  of  its  kind,  though  the  dredging  of 
nature  is  the  miry  form  of  art.' l  One  loves  to 
think  of  the  greatest  romancist  of  them  all,  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  with  his  nobility  of  soul,  and  to 
remember  that  there  is  not  a  base  thought,  not 
an  evil  suggestion,  not  a  morbid  feeling,  not  an 
impure  word  in  the  whole  magnificent  array  of 
volumes ;  and  we  cannot  escape  the  thought 
that  a  man's  work  here  as  elsewhere  is  only  the 
reflection  of  himself,  and  in  this  case  we  feel  that 
there  is  revealed  a  simple,  brave,  gentle,  and 
generous  heart.  There  is  nothing  so  harmful  in 
the  world  as  a  bad  book,  because  it  touches  the 
subtlest  and  most  delicate  of  our  powers,  the 
imagination.  It  leaves  a  scar  on  the  heart  and  a 
stain  on  the  mind. 

Our  moral  responsibility  in  connection  with 
this  great  gift  is  not  confined  to  approving  or 
disapproving  of  the  artistic  work  of  others. 

1  Diana  of  the  Crossways. 

N 


178  CULTURE  OF   IMAGINATION 

Control  is  needed  over  our  own  imagination  to 
keep  it  from  running  away  with  us,  and  becoming 
master  instead  of  servant.  If  we  have  not  a 
firm  hand  on  the  reins  of  imagination,  one  of 
two  moral  evils  results. 

(i)  We  will  be  plagued  by  the  sins  of  emptiness, 
and  our  life  can  at  best  be  a  useless  dream.  This 
is  common  in  youth  before  the  mind  has  force 
enough  to  control  the  fancy,  and  bring  it  into 
subjection.  Many  precious  days  and  years  are 
spent  in  dreams  without  any  fulfilment.  It  is 
specially  the  temptation  of  the  student,  and 
often  the  finer  the  mind  the  more  subtle  the 
temptation.  Many  a  life  has  been  enervated 
by  sinful  indulgence  in  the  pleasures  of  the  im- 
agination, even  when  these  are  pure  and  innocent 
enough.  All  of  us  know  men  who  should  have 
done  better  work  for  the  world  than  they  now 
will  ever  do,  because  their  powers  of  deciding 
and  acting  have  been  eaten  away.  Absent-mind- 
edness is  not  always  the  attribute  of  genius,  but 
is  oftener  the  fruit  of  idleness  and  feckless  moon- 
ing. Most  young  people  love  to  dream  of  them- 
selves achieving  great  things  in  some  beautiful 
future,  watching  themselves  playing  a  magnificent 
part  as  a  great  artist,  or  orator,  or  scholar,  or 


CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION  179 

lawyer,  or  man  of  business  —  the  dream  of  a  full 
theatre  with  applauding  crowds.  It  is  usually  an 
unsanctified  dream.  Imagination  was  not  given  us 
for  such  idle  and  selfish  fancies.  Our  life  to-day, 
and  especially  our  intellectual  life,  is  cursed  with 
false  ambitions,  and  these  are  largely  fostered 
by  such  self-indulgence  of  the  imagination. 
This  dream-power  of  projecting  ourselves  into 
ideal  scenes,  and  of  anticipating  the  future  can 
be  a  great  blessing,  but  becomes  a  positive 
weakness  if  it  does  not  inspire  to  moral  action. 
We  need  to  be  master  of  ourselves  and  of  our 
faculties.  We  need  the  self-control  which  will 
give  us  a  grip  of  ourselves,  and  not  let  life  and 
its  tasks  slip  past  us. 

(2)  But  failure  to  restrain  imagination  rarely 
ends  in  such  negative  failure,  bad  as  that  is.  Here 
also  the  empty  house  is  the  ready  resort  of  the 
seven  devils.  Imagination  uncontrolled  usually 
means  imagination  run  riot.  The  power  we  have 
of  making  mental  pictures  and  calling  up  images 
at  will  means  that  these  pictures  and  images  may 
be  evil.  We  cannot  forget  the  psychology  of 
temptation,  how  it  gains  foothold  in  the  imagina- 
tion, and  entices  and  seduces  and  draws  away  of 
its  own  lust.  The  first  step  in  the  ruin  of  many 


l8o  CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION 

a  man's  life  is  by  the  indulgence  of  a  misplaced 
curiosity.  No  moral  catastrophe  comes  all  of  a 
sudden.  It  has  a  long  history  of  evil  imaginings, 
finding  pleasure  in  them,  giving  them  house-room, 
living  with  them  and  loving  them.  A  man  is  a 
cheat  in  heart,  dreaming  of  easy  gains,  before  he 
becomes  dishonest  in  act.  A  man  is  impure  in 
thought  before  he  becomes  profligate  in  life.  A 
man  lets  self  dominate  his  mind  before  he  becomes 
selfish  in  deed.  Imagination  is  polluted  before 
vice  is  born.  Sin  gets  its  secure  seat  in  the 
soul  before  it  comes  out  to  view  in  conduct  and 
habits.  Self-control  must  begin  here,  because  im- 
agination affects  the  whole  man  to  the  very  finger- 
tips. Unholy  thoughts  end  in  unhallowed  acts; 
evil  imaginings  translate  themselves  into  life. 

Christ  in  His  diagnosis  of  sin  is  not  content 
with  mentioning  its  manifestations,  but  points  to 
the  baneful  root.  He  teaches  us  that  the  genesis 
of  murder  is  anger  in  the  mind,  and  the  genesis  of 
adultery  is  lust  in  the  eye,  and  the  genesis  of 
revenge  is  hardness  of  heart.  Keep  thine  heart 
with  diligence,  for  out  of  it  are  the  issues  of  life. 
Look  well  after  the  beginnings  of  evil,  as  it 
sneaks  for  its  lurking  place  in  the  imagination. 
It  is  a  terrible  transformation  when  the  house  of 


CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION  181 

life,  which  should  be  a  home  with  order  and 
cleanliness  and  peace,  is  a  sepulchre  which, 
though  whitened  without,  is  full  of  dead  men's 
bones  and  all  manner  of  excess.  When  the 
imagination  is  corrupt,  how  can  the  life  escape 
the  taint  ?  A  man  cannot  take  fire  into  his 
bosom  and  his  clothes  not  be  burned.  If  we 
would  save  our  imagination  from  becoming  a 
nest  of  foul  spirits,  we  must  determine  to  endure 
no  evil  thing  before  our  eyes.  Surely  it  is  the 
ultimate  failure  to  have  in  the  house  of  life, 
instead  of  pictures  of  the  good,  the  beautiful,  and 
the  true,  a  gallery  of  the  obscene,  a  gallery  of  pic- 
tures impure  and  foul,  humiliating  the  high  soul 
of  man,  and  chaining  the  life  to  a  body  of  death. 
In  addition  to  this  need  for  control  of  imagina- 
tion in  the  region  of  morals,  there  is  no  less  need 
for  its  control  in  the  realm  of  the  spiritual.  An 
untutored  imagination  in  religion  is  ever  in 
danger  of  false  mysticism.  All  true  religion  has 
of  course  a  mystical  heart ;  for  it  means  direct 
communion  with  God,  and  implies  the  open  face 
and  the  beatific  vision.  But,  because  of  this, 
delusions  of  all  kinds  are  possible,  and  Jonathan 
Edwards'  impeachment  of  the  imagination  finds 
some  basis  in  fact.  Uncontrolled  imagination  has 


182  CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION 

led  to  the  most  fatal  errors.  Our  Lord,  who 
knew  the  heart  of  man,  warned  against  false 
Christs  and  false  prophets,  who  would  show 
great  signs  and  wonders,  so  as  to  lead  astray  if 
possible  the  very  elect.  St.  Paul  also  warned 
his  disciples  against  these  very  signs  and  lying 
wenders.  We  see  how  needful  the  warning  was, 
when  we  think  of  the  false  supernaturalisms  and 
mysticisms  and  occult  arts  and  theosophies  and 
spiritualisms  that  have  afflicted  the  race  since. 
Apart  from  all  such  gross  delusions,  it  is  always 
dangerous  to  trust  too  much  to  a  susceptible 
imagination  in  times  of  religious  excitement. 
We  need  to  remember  that  religion  does  not 
depend  on  our  states  of  mind  and  feeling,  and 
that  faith  is  not  dependent  on  personal  visions. 
The  danger  of  paying  heed  to  the  pictures  of  a 
lively  and  excitable  imagination  is  that  it  loses 
sight  of  the  truly  spiritual  side  of  religion,  and 
lays  stress  on  what  is  after  all  only  another  form 
of  materialism.  It  has  also  a  danger  to  the  in- 
dividual in  puffing  him  up  with  conceit  at  the 
thought  that  he  is  favoured  with  a  special 
revelation  to  himself;  and  pride  is  the  first  of 
the  seven  deadly  sins. 

There    is    a   place    in    religion    for    sanctified 


CULTURE   OF   IMAGINATION  183 

imagination,  but  it  must  be  restrained  by  the 
practical  needs  of  living,  and  restrained  most  of 
all  by  the  endeavour  to  keep  step  with  Christ. 
Whatever  is  inconsistent  with  His  teaching,  and 
out  of  harmony  with  the  simplicity  of  His  life 
and  the  beauty  of  His  spirit,  must  be  dismissed. 
Idle  curiosity  about  the  mysteries  of  providence, 
empty  speculation  about  a  future  life,  receive  no 
support  from  His  example.  They  are  an  insult 
to  true  faith,  which  among  its  spiritual  contents 
includes  patience.  To  be  a  Christian  is  to  sub- 
mit the  whole  life  to  Christ,  judging  all  things  by 
His  spirit.  Safety  for  the  imaginative  life  is  got 
by  this  submission,  which  saves  it  from  excess, 
guards  it  from  evil,  and  uses  it  to  the  best  advan- 
tage. It  is  made  a  home  of  all  that  is  fair  and 
lovely  in  the  Father's  lovely  world,  and  through 
it  comes  lasting  pleasure  in  all  that  is  good  and 
beautiful  and  true.  The  life  He  offers  is  not 
emasculated  and  feeble,  but  rich  and  full  and 
joyous,  with  all  the  world's  true  treasures  at 
command,  because  we  are  Christ's,  and  Christ  is 
God's. 


CULTURE   OF   HEART 


*  Religion  consists  much  in  holy  affections.' 

—  JONATHAN  EDWARDS. 


CHAPTER  VII 

CULTURE  OF  HEART 

'THHE  mistake  which  many  advocates  of  cul- 
•*-  ture  have  made  is  that  they  limit  it  to  the 
sphere  of  intellect.  Culture  has  thus  been 
looked  on  as  a  forcing  ground  for  prigs,  devel- 
oping the  superior  person  who  is  above  the 
sentiments  and  prejudices  which  move  the  mass 
of  men.  Such  a  man  looks  with  contemptuous 
pity  on  the  ordinary  motives  of  human  action, 
the  feelings  and  passions  and  instincts  and  en- 
thusiasms of  the  vulgar  crowd.  He  sits  above 
the  tumult  and  criticises  in  a  cynical  way,  pro- 
fessing to  make  reason  the  guide  of  life,  while 
others  are  content  with  feeling.  The  need  for 
reason  and  the  duty  of  thought  we  have  admitted, 
but  if  emotion  can  go  astray,  reason  can  also 
be  a  will-of-the-wisp.  It  can  be  as  much  the 
plaything  of  prejudice  as  even  sentiment.  To 
set  it  up  as  the  infallible  rule  would  put  the 
world  more  at  sixes  and  sevens  than  ever;  for 
187 


1 88  CULTURE  OF  HEART 

as  a  matter  of  fact  men  are  not  solely,  if  even 
chiefly,  united  by  reason.  All  the  permanent 
relationships  of  life  are  held  together  by  the 
affections  rather  than  by  the  intellect.  The 
culture  which  neglects  the  facts  and  forces  of 
human  nature  other  than  mental  is  not  culture ; 
for  it  is  condemned  by  its  onesidedness.  If  men 
were  isolated  individuals  there  might  be  some 
excuse  for  such  narrowness.  But  human  nature 
is  essentially  social :  men  are  developed  only  in 
society.  So,  even  for  the  sake  of  the  individual 
himself,  culture  must  be  social  in  its  objects  and 
seek  the  good  of  others,  and  as  the  great  nexus 
of  men  is  not  the  intellect  but  the  affections, 
there  must  be  room  for  culture  of  the  heart. 

Intellect  in  itself  will  not  ennoble  life.  The 
very  power  of  reason,  without  a  corresponding 
development  of  the  higher  feelings,  would  only 
make  man  a  more  dangerous  brute  than  all  other 
animals.  The  sensual  when  combined  with  the 
intellectual  results  in  the  devilish.  Shakespeare 
draws  such  a  character  for  us  in  lago.  His 
selfish  scheming,  his  accurate  reading  of  the 
hearts  of  others  so  that  he  plays  off  skilfully 
their  different  feelings  and  passions  against  each 
other,  his  treachery  to  friend  and  hypocrisy  to 


CULTURE   OF   HEART  189 

foe,  his  cold-blooded  policy  in  using  living  men 
and  women  as  pawns  in  his  own  game,  his 
cynical  contempt  for  what  he  considers  the 
weakness  of  his  victims,  as  when,  after  work- 
ing up  Othello  to  the  climax  of  jealousy,  he 
sneers  'thus  credulous  fools  are  caught'  —  all 
these  make  him  perhaps  the  most  consummate 
villain  in  literature.  lago's  want  of  heart  damns 
his  intellect.  This  is  not  a  mere  fancy  picture. 
The  world  has  often  been  cursed  with  such  a 
combination  of  the  sensual  and  the  intellectual. 
The  history  of  almost  every  country  can  give 
illustrations  of  such  men  who  attained  power  by 
trampling  on  the  rights  of  men.  Caesare  Borgia, 
the  son  of  his  unscrupulous  and  only  less  hated 
father,  Pope  Alexander  VI.,  is  such  an  instance 
in  the  renaissance  history  of  Italy.  With  force 
of  intellect  cursed  by  selfish  ambition,  a  patron 
of  the  arts,  pictured  by  Macchiavelli  as  a  great 
ruler,  he  because  of  his  very  gifts  made  his 
name  a  terror  and  his  memory  a  shame.  Per- 
fidy, sacrilege,  assassination,  vileness  unspeak- 
able, were  as  his  daily  food  till  men  had  to 
kill  him  like  a  mad  dog.  The  mere  stupid 
sensualist  lacks  the  power  to  be  a  world-curse, 
though  he  blights  all  he  touches;  but  when 


igo  CULTURE  OF  HEART 

added  to  that  there  is  the  cold  selfishness  of 
real  mental  power  he  can  make  his  name  a 
hissing.  Intellect  without  the  affections  can 
create  a  monster.  Conscience  is  needed  to  regu- 
late life,  the  heart  is  needed  to  guide  it.  Even 
when  intellect  is  not  dragged  into  the  service 
of  evil,  if  it  is  without  the  warmth  of  affection, 
it  is  only 

Faultily  faultless,  icily  regular,  splendidly  null, 
Dead  perfection  —  no  more. 

Absence  of  emotion  does  not  necessarily  mean, 
as  we  are  inclined  to  think,  the  presence  of 
the  practical  virtues,  commonsense  and  courage. 
We  imagine  that  coldness  of  temperament  im- 
plies an  abnormal  development  of  wisdom  and 
the  best  sort  of  prudence.  It  may  be  only 
dulness  and  insensibility  all  round.  The  people 
who  cannot  afford  one  single  expression  of 
sympathy,  who  are  seldom  kind  and  never 
really  tender-hearted,  have  not  necessarily  even 
more  commonsense  than  their  more  susceptible 
neighbours.  Some  men,  it  may  be,  seem  for  a 
time  to  get  a  clear  brain  from  a  stifled  heart. 
Hardness  of  heart  may  seem  necessary  for  some 
kinds  of  success,  but  it  is  not  a  success  worth 
having.  A  man  with  very  fine  feelings  perhaps 


CULTURE   OF   HEART  191 

handicaps  himself  in  the  attainment  of  some 
ambitions,  but  these  ambitions  are  not  the 
highest  and  the  best.  It  is  no  great  ideal  for 
a  man  to  be  like  Job's  leviathan,  whose  '  heart  is 
as  firm  as  a  stone ;  yea  as  hard  as  a  piece  of  the 
nether  millstone.'  The  self-seeker  may  carve  out 
a  great  career,  may  achieve  wealth  or  position, 
may  astonish  by  his  brilliance  and  power,  may 
make  men  admire  him  and  envy  him,  but  he 
will  not  make  them  love  him.  He  will  not 
grapple  hearts  to  him  as  with  bands  of  steel. 
Pity  is  the  gate  to  influence  of  the  highest  and 
deepest  sort.  The  empire  of  souls  is  given  not 
to  the  clever  but  to  the  loving,  not  to  those 
who  command  our  attention  by  their  force  of 
brain  but  to  those  who  touch  us  with  their 
sympathy,  their  devotion,  their  sacrifice.  The 
true  test  even  of  art  in  painting  and  literature 
is  not  that  it  inspires  wonder  at  its  cleverness 
but  that  it  inspires  a  large  sense  of  the  mystery 
of  the  world  and  life,  and  a  large  tolerance  and 
pity.  The  world  is  held  in  thrall  not  by  the 
great  conquerors  and  statesmen  and  financiers 
but  by  the  great  sentimentalists,  the  poets  and 
prophets  and  mystics  and  saints.  Men  are 
melted  by  the  example  and  story  of  all  who 


192  CULTURE   OF   HEART 

have  lived  and  died  for  men,  and  by  the  work 
of  those  who  by  their  feeling  have  interpreted 
the  dumb  desires  and  speechless  pain  of  the 
race.  Even  their  mistakes  are  forgotten,  as 
with  Shelley  when  we  know  how  true  these 
words  of  his  are  of  himself  — 

I  who  am  as  a  nerve  o'er  which  do  creep 
The  else-unfelt  oppressions  of  this  earth. 

There  is  a  brilliant  saying  of  Horace  Walpole, 
that  this  world  is  a  comedy  to  those  who  think, 
and  a  tragedy  to  those  who  feel.  It  is  also  a 
true  saying,  but  only  on  the  surface.  The 
comedy  will  not  last  long ;  it  will  become  a 
greater  tragedy  to  those  who  do  not  feel ;  for 
the  only  hope  of  a  solution  of  the  whole  problem 
of  existence  lies  in  the  discoveries  of  the  heart- 
life,  and  the  only  permanent  union  among  men 
must  be  found  not  by  logic  but  by  love. 

Now,  the  affections,  like  the  other  parts  of  our 
nature,  need  care  and  education  and  training. 
We  seem  to  expect  the  life  of  the  heart  to  go  on 
of  itself  by  what  we  call  nature.  The  affections 
are  natural,  but  not  more  so  than  physical  or 
mental  health  is  natural.  We  must  set  before 
ourselves  the  aim  to  live  the  life  of  the  heart 
constantly  and  continually,  just  as  we  think  it  a 


CULTURE  OF   HEART  193 

good  thing  to  set  before  us  the  aim  to  live  the 
life  of  thought.  As  the  athlete  must  go  into 
training  for  the  perfection  of  his  bodily  powers, 
and  as  the  scholar  must  give  himself  to  learning 
even  when  the  flesh  rebels,  so  we  must  set  our- 
selves to  cultivate  the  affections.  We  need  to 
encourage  and  develop  the  life  of  the  heart  by 
consistently  setting  before  ourselves  the  practice 
of  all  true  and  noble  sentiments.  This  is  one  of 
the  implications  of  our  original  starting-point  of 
the  duty  of  proportional  development. 

How  can  the  heart-life  be  trained?  The  pre- 
cepts are  plain  enough,  though  the  practice  may 
be  difficult — precepts  such  as  'be  ye  kind  one  to 
another,  tender-hearted,  forgiving  one  another.' 
The  sentiment  of  kindness  is  got  by  being  kind. 
The  sentiment  of  gentleness  is  got  by  being 
gentle,  by  stopping  the  cutting  word  at  the  teeth 
if  it  cannot  be  stopped  before,  by  crushing  down 
the  harsh  judgment,  by  replacing  the  cruel 
thought  with  a  tender  one,  by  persistently  prac- 
tising kindness,  by  doing  the  generous  deed,  by 
speaking  the  encouraging  word,  by  thinking  no 
evil.  This  training  of  the  Christian  sentiment 
cannot  be  left  to  haphazard,  but  must  be  accepted 
deliberately  as  a  duty,  and  persisted  in  con- 


194  CULTURE  OF  HEART 

stantly  as  a  plan  of  life ;  for  if  we  are  not 
deliberately  kind,  we  will  often  be  cruel  if  only 
through  thoughtlessness.  Some  may  have  no 
opportunities  of  living  the  life  of  thought,  but  all 
have  opportunities  to  live  the  life  of  the  heart, 
by  gentle  courtesy  to  servants  and  dependants, 
by  consideration  for  friends  and  comrades,  by 
doing  something  and  giving  something  to  alle- 
viate human  sorrow. 

De  Musset  said  that  most  men  have  in  them 
a  poet  who  dies  young.  The  tragedy  of  that 
early  death,  the  death  of  fine  feeling  and  gener- 
ous emotion !  We  need  continually  to  replenish 
the  heart :  the  fire  dies  out  for  want  of  fuel. 
It  is  so  easy  to  become  cynical  and  bias/.  Self- 
ishness soon  eats  into  every  generous  ideal 
like  an  acid.  A  cheap  contempt  comes  easily 
when  we  look  to  the  follies  of  men  rather  than 
to  their  sorrows,  but  contempt  is  a  wrong  to  the 
man  despised,  and  a  wrong  to  human  nature,  and 
a  wrong  to  our  own  selves.  Impatience  with 
others  and  indignation  against  them,  if  these 
feelings  are  not  the  fruit  of  love,  are  an  insult  to 
our  common  humanity.  There  is  a  satire  even 
in  the  name  of  righteousness  which  is  the  devil's 
weapon;  there  is  an  anger  even  in  the  cause  of 


CULTURE  OF  HEART  195 

good  which  is  sin.  Charity  will  often  disarm 
criticism  by  its  generous  refusal  to  throw  too 
cold  a  light  upon  the  infirmities  of  men,  and 
this  not  through  the  weakness  which  pretends 
not  to  see,  but  because  it  sees  more  deeply  and 
widely.  It  softens  the  sight  because  it  sharpens 
the  insight.  It  touches  life  tenderly  and  looks 
on  it  gently.  We  need  to  bear  and  forbear, 
exercise  patience  and  tolerance  and  pity.  We 
must  learn  to  take  the  generous  side  in  all  the 
causes  that  emerge.  Lamartine  called  Chris- 
tianity an  insurrection  of  justice  in  favour  of  the 
weak.  There  is  nothing  sadder  than  to  see 
young  men  always  taking  the  cynical  and 
prudential  view  of  life,  and  never  practising 
themselves  in  standing  up  for  the  weak  and 
oppressed.  Better  to  be  a  partisan  of  lost  causes 
than  to  have  the  heart  seared  by  self-interest  or 
callousness.  The  light  of  generous  enthusiasm 
dies  out  soon  enough  into  the  common  light  of 
day.  The  world's  use  and  wont  soon  enough 
deprives  men  of  their  unselfish  passion.  In  all 
the  problems  of  our  day  as  a  nation  and  as  a 
society,  we  should  expect  to  see  the  young  on 
the  generous  side.  Certainly,  if  religion  is  to  be 
real  to  us,  we  must  learn  to  feel,  we  must  culti- 


196  CULTURE  OF   HEART 

vate  pure  sentiment,  we  must  set  to  ourselves 
as  a  task  the  training  of  our  heart -life.  '  You 
have  heard  many  outcries,'  said  Ruskin,  'against 
sensation  lately ;  but  I  can  tell  you  it  is  not  less 
sensation  we  want,  but  more.  The  ennobling 
difference  between  one  man  and  another  — 
between  one  animal  and  another  —  is  precisely 
in  this,  that  one  feels  more  than  another.  If  we 
were  sponges,  perhaps  sensation  might  not  be 
easily  got  from  us ;  if  we  were  earthworms,  liable 
at  every  instant  to  be  cut  in  two  by  the  spade, 
perhaps  too  much  sensation  might  not  be  good 
for  us.  But  being  human  creatures,  it  is  good  for 
us ;  nay,  we  are  only  human  in  so  far  as  we  are 
sensitive,  and  our  honour  is  precisely  in  pro- 
portion to  our  passion.' 

We  are  afraid  of  sentiment.  We  kill  our 
affections  by  hiding  them  even  from  those  we 
love ;  we  let  our  friends  die  without  telling  them 
how  much  we  owe  them;  the  sweetest  souls  of 
our  households  pass  from  us  before  we  even 
know  how  we  have  taken  everything  and  given 
nothing.  For  want  of  sentiment  men  are  hard- 
ening into  worldlings,  money-grubbers,  material- 
ists, sensualists.  We  deprecate  passion ;  and 
noble  life  is  dying  because  there  is  in  our  midst 


CULTURE   OF   HEART 


197 


little  passion  for  anything  great.  Every  true 
and  unselfish  passion  purifies,  it  lifts  the  life  to 
a  higher  platform.  Even  the  passion  of  a  great 
sorrow  has  saving  power.  We  moralise  over  the 
foolish  loyalties  of  men,  their  capacity  of  creat- 
ing heroes  out  of  very  inferior  material,  such  as 
the  great  Jacobite  sentiment  in  Scotland  for  the 
Stuarts.  Even  if  in  the  judgment  of  history  the 
heroes  do  turn  out  to  be  unworthy,  the  devotion 
of  honest  hearts  is  not  always  wasted  —  it  makes 
them  worthy.  Mark  Rutherford  in  the  Revolu- 
tion in  Tanner  s  Lane  describes  the  tremendous 
ovation  Louis  XVIII.  got  in  London.  'There 
was  a  great  crowd  in  the  street  when  he  came 
out  of  the  hotel,  and  immense  applause ;  the  mob 
crying  out  "  God  bless  your  Majesty  "  as  if  they 
owed  him  all  they  had  and  even  their  lives.  It 
was  very  touching,  people  thought  at  the  time, 
and  so  it  was.  Is  there  anything  more  touching 
than  the  waste  of  human  loyalty  and  love?  As 
we  read  the  history  of  the  Highlands,  or  a  story 
of  Jacobite  loyalty  such  as  that  of  Cooper's 
Admiral  Bluewater,  dear  to  boys,  we  sadden  that 
destiny  should  decree  that  in  a  world  in  which 
piety  is  not  too  plentiful,  it  should  run  so 
pitifully  to  waste,  and  that  men  and  women 


198  CULTURE   OF   HEART 

should  weep  hot  tears  over  bran-stuffing  and 
wax.'  But  it  is  better  that  men  and  women 
should  in  sincere  if  mistaken  enthusiasm  give 
their  heart's  treasure  to  what  we  think  only  bran- 
stuffing  and  wax,  than  that  they  should  imagine 
that  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  to  love  pas- 
sionately, and  none  they  should  loyally  believe 
in  and  follow.  Hero-worship  is  a  great  factor  in 
education,  as  all  who  have  to  do  with  boys  can 
testify. 

Emotion  is  at  the  basis  of  life,  even  of  intellect- 
ual life.  It  is  folly  to  imagine  that  thinking  is  at 
its  highest  when  feeling  is  at  its  lowest.  The  life 
of  the  heart  is  necessary  for  the  life  of  thought. 
True  culture  here  does  not  interfere  with  other 
culture,  but  rather  gives  it  new  grace  and  fills  its 
incompleteness.  A  poet  will  have  more  exalted 
feelings  and  thoughts  at  the  sight  of  the  stars 
than  an  astronomer  with  all  his  science  if  he  is  a 
mere  observer  and  recorder  of  facts.  There  is  no 
great  thought  when  it  is  not  transfused  with 
great  feeling.  In  moments  of  emotional  excite- 
ment the  intellect  can  grasp  ideas  that  otherwise 
would  be  impossible.  There  is  no  profound 
morality  which  is  not  touched  with  emotion. 
Morality  will  not  remain  a  permanent  force  in 


CULTURE   OF   HEART  199 

life  unless  it  is  supported  by  purified  sentiment 
and  by  personal  love.  Both  as  individuals  and 
as  a  community  we  suffer  from  too  little  true 
sentiment.  We  have  too  little  of  the  high  and 
holy  fear  that  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom,  too 
little  of  the  deep  indignation  at  wilful  evil,  too 
little  of  the  keen  sorrow  that  takes  on  the  heart 
the  burden  and  mystery  of  life.  We  doom  our 
emotional  nature  to  seek  satisfaction  in  petty 
feelings  and  in  transient  thrills.  There  is  no 
religion  even  where  the  heart  is  not  moved.  The 
great  revelation  is  that  God  is  love.  If  He 
were  only  wisdom  and  power  and  justice  and 
righteousness,  we  could  at  the  best  stand  to  Him 
in  the  relation  of  subjects;  but  when  we  know 
that  He  is  also  love,  we  can  stand  in  the  relation 
of  children.  One  of  the  fruits  of  faith  is  seen  in 
the  quickening  and  deepening  of  sentiment,  the 
creation  of  finer  feelings  of  pity  and  compassion 
and  charity.  It  produces  sympathy,  and  is  far 
removed  from  the  purely  intellectual  outlook  of 
the  man  whose  boast  is  that  he  regulates  life  by 
cold  reason. 

Here    also    true    education    implies    restraint. 
Some  human  emotions,  such  as  joy  and  compas- 


200  CULTURE  OF  HEART 

sion,  are  of  a  high  and  noble  character,  and  can 
usually  be  expressed  without  much  danger  of 
abuse,  though  even  here,  as  we  shall  see,  care  is 
needed ;  but  there  are  others  equally  natural  and 
spontaneous  which  always  need  the  most  careful 
watching,  such  as  grief  and  fear  and  anger. 
Some  schools  of  philosophy  have  insisted  on 
these  feelings  being  curbed,  and  as  far  as  possible 
crushed,  as  if  it  were  unworthy  of  our  manhood 
to  give  them  any  place,  making  the  ideal  of  life 
a  passionless  calm.  But  the  true  way  is  not  to 
attempt  to  kill  emotions,  but  to  purify  them,  and 
our  appeal  is  to  preserve  the  life  of  the  heart  by 
insisting  on  the  need  of  control.  How  great 
that  need  is  we  can  see,  when  we  think  how  life 
suffers  when  emotion  is  allowed  to  run  to  seed. 
We  know  in  ordinary  practice  how  feckless 
the  most  sympathetic  people  may  be,  and  how 
unreliable  they  often  are  at  a  pinch.  They  spill 
themselves  all  over  the  place,  and  when  they 
have  poured  out  their  sentiment  there  is  nothing 
left.  In  times  of  difficulty,  how  we  value  what 
we  call  the  sober  mind,  the  man  of  sane  judg- 
ment who  has  a  grip  of  himself  and  thus  of  the 
situation,  who  never  lets  himself  go  in  idle  words 
or  in  rash  resolves.  The  facile,  shallow  tempera- 


CULTURE  OF   HEART  201 

ment  that  easily  boils  to  passion  and  as  easily 
freezes  to  despair,  that  moves  now  to  extrava- 
gant hopes  and  again  to  extravagant  fears,  that 
lives  ever  subject  to  storms,  to  swellings,  and 
tumults  of  soul,  can  give  little  practical  help  in 
a  crisis. 

We  come  to  this,  to  begin  with,  that  however 
good  and  necessary  emotion  may  be,  reason  must 
be  used  as  the  ballast  of  feeling.  Emotion  un- 
balanced by  reason  splutters  itself  out  in  sound 
or  degenerates  into  mere  whim  or  prejudice.  It  is 
terrible  to  think  how  much  life  is  ruled  by  mere 
prejudice,  tossed  about  by  every  wave.  '  Fine 
feelings  without  vigour  of  reason  are  in  the  situ- 
ation of  a  peacock's  tail  dragging  in  the  mud.' l 
It  is  dangerous  to  lose  control  of  any  of  our 
powers,  and  uncontrolled  emotion  is  like  a  bull  in 
a  china-shop.  To  know  that  we  are  in  the  zone  of 
danger  here,  we  need  only  remember  the  common 
tendency  to  relapse  after  a  violent  strain  of  feeling, 
whether  it  be  on  the  one  side  an  unregulated 
ecstasy  of  joy,  or  on  the  other  an  unrestrained 
flood  of  sorrow.  If  it  lives  at  all  after  such  a  re- 
lapse, it  lives  only  as  a  feeble  sentimentalism. 
The  man  of  feeling,  if  he  lets  his  feeling  run  away 

i  Foster. 


202  CULTURE   OF   HEART 

with  him,  will  probably  become  an  empty  dreamer. 
When  sentiment  in  excess  and  unbalanced  is  at 
last  exhausted,  its  place  is  often  filled  by  a  false 
sentimentalism.  Sentiment  is  the  very  soul  of 
human  life,  keeping  it  true  and  sweet  and  sound : 
sentimentalism  turns  the  wholesome  force  into 
something  degrading  and  diseased. 

The  urgent  need  for  the  guidance  of  the  feel- 
ings will  be  seen  even  in  the  region  where  there 
is  least  of  all  danger  of  excess,  that  of  compassion. 
Even  here  we  see  that  the  instincts  of  pity 
and  help  and  charitable  emotion  need  wise  and 
careful  guidance  if  we  are  to  avoid  doing  more 
harm  than  good.  Many  a  benefaction  has  missed 
its  aim  through  the  lack  of  wise  direction  and 
prudent  oversight.  If  men  thought  more  of  the 
remoter  consequences  of  their  acts,  there  would 
be  more  judgment  in  their  charity  as  well  as  in 
their  ordinary  conduct.  Indiscriminate  charity 
may  be  only  another  and  subtler  form  of  selfish- 
ness, merely  to  get  rid  of  the  particular  distress 
that  happens  to  be  present.  Philanthropy,  in- 
deed, needs  more  wisdom  than  it  usually  receives. 
For  example,  if  industry  is  discouraged  by  any 
well-meant  benevolence  or  by  a  law  prompted  by 
philanthropy,  the  ultimate  result  will  be  only  an 


CULTURE   OF   HEART  203 

increase  of  poverty  and  distress.  This  is  any- 
thing but  a  plea  for  callousness  and  for  the  lack 
of  sensitiveness  in  which  we  saw  that  the  most 
aggravated  forms  of  cruelty  have  their  roots.  It 
is  a  plea  for  the  wisdom  that  will  bring  to  bear 
on  the  problems  of  our  times  all  the  powers  of 
mind  and  not  merely  the  casual  charitable  feeling 
of  the  moment. 

Not  only  in  the  region  of  charity,  but  along  the 
whole  line  of  life,  we  find  that  when  true  and 
pure  and  wise  sentiment  is  exhausted,  a  spurious 
substitute  is  often  found  in  some  form  of  senti- 
mentalism.  It  finds  many  expressions  in  litera- 
ture, as  in  Sterne  and  the  school  of  Shandyism, 
which  is  perhaps  its  most  maudlin  form,  and 
as  to-day  in  works  of  fiction  which  flood  us  with 
counterfeit  pathos.  Rousseau  is  an  example  of 
another  false  form  of  sentiment,  with  his  affecta- 
tion of  sympathy,  a  luxury  of  pity  without  any 
grip  on  the  heart  or  any  correspondence  in  the 
life.  With  all  its  great  interest  of  matter  and  of 
style,  his  Confessions  often  sickens  with  its  mock 
heroics  and  its  drench  of  unreal  sentiment.  We 
are  compelled  to  assent  to  Professor  James's 
judgment,  though  inserted  casually  in  a  chapter 
on  Psychology,  '  When  a  resolve  or  a  fine  glow  of 


204  CULTURE   OF   HEART 

feeling  is  allowed  to  evaporate  without  bearing 
practical  fruit,  it  is  worse  than  a  chance  lost ;  it 
works  so  as  positively  to  hinder  future  resolutions 
and  emotions  from  taking  the  normal  path  of 
discharge.  There  is  no  more  contemptible  type 
of  human  character  than  that  of  the  nerveless 
sentimentalist  and  dreamer,  who  spends  his  life 
in  a  weltering  sea  of  sensibility  and  emotion,  but 
who  never  does  a  manly  concrete  deed.  Rousseau, 
inflaming  all  the  mothers  of  France,  by  his  elo- 
quence, to  follow  Nature  and  nurse  their  babies 
themselves,  while  he  sends  his  own  children  to  the 
foundling  hospital,  is  the  classical  example  of 
what  I  mean.' 

There  is  an  elevation  of  mind  where  pure 
emotion  raises  thought  to  its  highest  power  and 
feeling  suffuses  reason,  so  that  the  life  is  ever 
saved  from  becoming  dully  formal  or  inhumanly 
cold.  That  is  one  thing ;  but  it  is  quite  another 
thing  when  the  mind  is  open  to  be  played  on 
by  every  wayward  gust  of  feeling,  in  vehement 
joy  or  ungovernable  sorrow,  never  free  from  the 
possibility  of  tumult.  We  cannot  live  in  spasms, 
and  the  best  results  of  life  are  attained  in  calm 
and  serious  effort,  in  submission  of  will  and 
resignation  of  heart.  In  practical  life,  when  true 


CULTURE   OF   HEART 


205 


sentiment  is  lost,  excitement  is  made  to  take  its 
place.  It  becomes  a  feverish  lust  to  fill  up  the 
void.  Feeling,  like  fire,  is  a  good  servant  but  a 
dangerous  master.  We  are  only  saved  from  the 
danger  when  there  is  some  sort  of  real  corre- 
spondence in  action  with  any  feeling  evoked. 
The  danger  of  tragedy  as  a  spectacle  lies  in 
the  separation  of  the  feelings  excited  from  any 
opportunity  to  assist  practically.  Tragedy  may, 
as  Aristotle  said,  purge  the  soul  with  pity  and 
with  fear,  but  the  danger  is  that  men  are  satisfied 
and  pleased  with  their  own  virtuous  feelings; 
they  applaud  virtue  and  hiss  vice,  and  go  out  to 
harden  their  hearts  against  the  actual  needs  and 
claims.  Augustine  noted  this  of  himself  in  the 
days  when  stage  plays  carried  him  away,  full  of 
images  of  his  miseries  and  of  tinder  for  his  flames. 
He  knew  that  to  suffer  in  oneself  is  pain,  and  to 
suffer  from  sympathy  with  others  is  pity.  'But 
what  sort  of  pity  is  this,1  he  asks,  '  for  the  shams 
and  shadows  of  the  stage  ?  For  the  auditor  is  not 
moved  to  succour,  but  only  asked  to  grieve ;  and 
he  applauds  the  actor  of  these  fictions  the  more, 
the  more  he  grieves.  And  if  those  human  mis- 
fortunes, whether  they  be  histories  of  olden  times 
or  mere  fictions,  be  so  acted  that  the  spectator  is 


206  CULTURE  OF   HEART 

not  moved  to  grief,  he  goes  away  disdainful  and 
censorious ;  but  if  he  be  moved  to  grief,  he  stays 
intent  and  enjoys  the  tears  he  sheds.' 

There  is  some  warning  for  us  all  in  this  danger 
of  losing  control  of  what  is  one  of  our  highest 
powers,  whether  it  be  in  excessive  indulgence  in 
plays  or  music  or  novel-reading,  or  a  futile  senti- 
mentalism  that  never  inspires  to  anything.  Even 
the  highest  religious  excitement  is  a  state  of  risk, 
and  one  of  the  commonest  errors  is  to  make 
religion  consist  of  feeling  and  to  judge  of  religious 
states  according  to  the  ardent  sensibility  or  the 
passion  and  emotion  displayed.  A  man  may  be 
melted  to  tears  without  any  effect  on  life,  and  to 
him  religious  excitement  may  be  as  demoralising 
as  any  other  form  of  dissipation.  To  be  carried 
away  with  a  flood  of  feeling  even  about  God's 
love  and  the  highest  things  in  religion  may  be 
very  different  from  true  elevation  of  soul.  We 
have  admitted  that  there  is  no  religion  where  the 
heart  is  not  touched,  but  emotion  is  not  the  end 
of  religion.  It  is  a  valuable  instrument,  a  means 
to  influence  reason  and  conscience  and  will.  Its 
great  use  is  to  drive  a  man  with  resistless  force 
over  the  obstacles  that  keep  him  imprisoned  in 
the  channels  of  sense.  The  agitation  and  excite- 


CULTURE   OF   HEART  207 

ment  and  tense  feeling  in  the  time  of  repentance 
and  decision  are  not  in  themselves  religion,  and 
their  great  purpose  is  achieved  when  they  make 
us  repent  or  decide  or  act.  Religious  excitement 
needs  to  be  saved  from  running  to  waste.  It  must 
be  mastered  and  harnessed  to  achieve  the  ends  of 
the  spirit  in  a  holy  life  and  in  noble  service. 

Thus,  on  every  hand,  we  see  that  sentiment 
needs  to  be  weighted  on  the  one  side  by  true 
thinking,  and  on  the  other  by  right  action. 
These  are  the  true  means  of  control  and  guid- 
ance. It  will  be  saved  from  running  riot  by 
larger  views  of  truth,  and  by  being  made  ever  a 
provocative  to  good  works.  For  example,  in 
religion  undue  excitement  and  excessive  emotion 
are  restrained  by  cultivating  large  thoughts,  and 
also  by  bringing  the  sentiment  to  the  proof  of 
action  in  actual  life.  This  is  not  to  make  a  cold 
and  unemotional  state  the  ideal,  but  rather  the 
opposite  :  it  is  to  preserve  the  force  of  feeling  in 
its  true  vigour  and  freshness.  The  power  of 
religious  worship  to  regulate  emotion  and  con- 
trol excitement  lies  in  the  first  means  suggested, 
the  cultivation  of  large  thoughts.  When  the 
mind  is  off  its  balance,  either  with  joy  or  sor- 
row, with  rapture  or  remorse,  it  is  calmed  and 


208  CULTURE   OF   HEART 

steadied  by  being  brought  into  the  presence  of 
God  in  prayer  or  praise.  It  breaks  the  current 
of  passion,  and  brings  the  soul  again  to  equi- 
librium. Worship  is  a  medicine  of  the  soul  to 
allay  agitation  and  give  right  expression  to  any 
natural  feeling. 

The  second  test  of  sentiment  which  we  have 
mentioned,  is  the  practical  one  of  putting  it  into 
practice.  The  emotion  which  is  divorced  from 
action  is  unsafe.  Life  is  real  and  earnest,  and 
though  there  is  room  for  sentiment,  there  is  none 
for  the  sentiment  which  destroys  action  and 
weakens  life.  After  all,  the  test  of  steam  is  speed, 
and  the  test  of  emotion  is  motion  :  the  test  of 
pity  is  help :  the  test  of  the  benevolent  affections 
is  benevolence.  '  To  feel  is  but  to  dream  until  we 
do.'  We  have  sometimes  seen  a  man  enjoying 
a  rich  luxury  of  emotion,  and  have  thought  that 
what  he  needed  most  was  a  cold  douche  of 
reality,  and  that  he  never  would  be  right  until  he 
made  his  feeling  square  with  fact,  and  put  it 
into  practice.  No  matter  how  many  and  how 
good  our  sentiments  are,  our  character  cannot 
change  for  the  better,  but  only  for  the  worse,  if 
we  never  attempt  the  concrete  deed,  if  we  never 
let  the  emotion  drive  us  into  moral  effort. 


CULTURE   OF   HEART 


209 


Now  all  this  may  seem  to  leave  us  floundering 
amid  contradictions.  If  at  one  time  we  declare 
that  we  are  rotting  at  the  heart  for  lack  of  senti- 
ment and  passion,  and  now  speak  cautiously  of 
the  danger  of  such  tumult  of  soul ;  if,  for  example, 
at  one  time  the  teaching  is  that  a  man  must  be 
willing  to  be  deceived  sometimes  rather  than  let 
his  generous  impulses  be  stifled,  and  now  the 
teaching  is  that  charitable  emotion  may  be  a 
source  of  evil.  But  the  way  out  is  simple,  when 
we  see  that  the  restraint  of  heart  is  necessary  for 
its  own  true  culture.  Emotion  must  be  disci- 
plined and  trained,  that  it  may  not  be  squandered 
on  foolish  causes,  or  perverted  into  evil  channels. 
Here,  as  elsewhere,  the  higher  the  gift  the  more 
terrible  is  its  abuse.  The  gifts  of  the  heart, 
being  higher  and  more  delicate  than  the  gifts  of 
the  mind,  have  a  greater  gulf  fixed  between  their 
highest  and  lowest  forms.  Love,  which  is  the 
joy  of  life,  may  be  its  curse.  The  golden  bond 
which  links  soul  to  soul  may  be  a  chain  to  bind 
the  life  to  loathsomeness.  Friendship  may  lead 
to  heaven,  or  be  '  procuress  to  the  lords  of  hell.' 
The  romance  of  life  may  itself  be  poisoned  and 
become  corruption.  We  see  the  need  of  wise  and 
careful  training  in  this  region  of  our  nature. 


210  CULTURE  OF  HEART 

Religion,  whose  sphere  is  the  heart,  includes 
and  combines  the  two  opposites.  To  give  God 
the  heart  is  to  give  Him  the  issues  of  life.  Christ 
unifies  life  for  us.  He  safeguards  every  part  of 
our  being,  and  uses  every  power.  He  inspires 
passion,  and  regulates  it.  Evil  desire  and  false 
sentiment  will  not  live  where  He  is.  In  pro- 
portion as  He  rules  in  the  heart,  conforming  the 
life  to  His  own  likeness,  the  affections  are  safe; 
for  He  provides  an  infallible  standard.  He  sat- 
isfies the  craving  for  a  perfect  love,  and  sets 
great  purposes  before  His  lovers.  He  generates 
passion  in  the  heart  —  His  peerless  passion  for 
purity  —  His  passion  for  weak  folk,  for  justice 
and  mercy  and  righteousness.  Even  in  the  fierce 
fight,  He  gives  peace  from  the  turmoil  of  con- 
tending voices  without,  and  from  the  tumult  of 
conflicting  feelings  within  ;  for  a  man  can  say, 
from  the  safe  anchorage  of  His  love,  'My  heart 
is  fixed,  O  God,  my  heart  is  fixed.' 


CULTURE  OF  CONSCIENCE 


'The  foundation  of  culture,  as  of  character,  is  at  last  the 
moral  sentiment.'  —  EMERSON. 
'  The  history  of  a  man  is  his  character.1  —  GOETHE. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

CULTURE  OF  CONSCIENCE 

/CONSCIENCE  has  been  called  the  voice  of 
^•^  God  in  man,  the  divine  speaking  in  the 
human.  In  our  common  language  it  is  a  divine 
spark  kindled  from  heaven,  and  is  as  the  meet- 
ing place  of  God  with  man.  Through  this  we 
have  the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  and  have 
something  that  may  be  called  an  inward  guide 
for  conduct.  But  in  our  time,  like  every  other 
part  of  nature  and  of  man,  conscience  has  been 
studied  scientifically.  Men  have  not  been  con- 
tent simply  to  believe  that  conscience  is  a  divine 
guide.  They  have  asked,  what  is  the  origin  of 
conscience,  how  did  it  come  that  we  have  this 
moral  witness,  excusing  or  accusing  ?  They  have 
tried  to  trace  out  its  growth  in  the  individual 
and  in  the  community,  and  have  written  the 
natural  history  of  conscience.  The  attempted 
explanations  are  not  always  satisfactory,  as  with 
Darwin,  who  explains  it  thus :  '  The  social  in- 
213 


214  CULTURE  OF  CONSCIENCE 

stincts  are  more  persistent  than  the  instinct  of 
vengeance  or  the  instinct  to  steal  food  when 
hungry,  and  at  last  man  comes  to  feel  that  it 
is  best  for  him  to  obey  his  more  persistent  in- 
stincts.' This  does  not  carry  us  very  far,  and 
does  not  explain  how  men  could  get  at  what 
they  feel  to  be  an  inviolable  rule  of  obligation 
and  duty  for  themselves,  a  moral  imperative 
which  says  '  I  ought,'  and  '  I  ought  not,'  an 
inward  law  which  experience  teaches  them  they 
cannot  disobey  without  suffering.  The  insuf- 
ficiency of  Darwin's  explanation  is  exposed  by 
himself  when  he  continues  :  'It  is  obvious  that 
every  one  may,  with  an  easy  conscience,  gratify 
his  own  desires,  if  they  do  not  interfere  with  his 
social  instincts,  that  is,  with  the  good  of  others.' 
It  may  be  the  beginning  of  the  natural  history 
of  conscience,  but  we  have  to  travel  a  long  way 
before  we  come  within  sight  of  what  the  word 
stands  for  in  our  ordinary  language. 

The  inquiry  has  done  much  to  make  the  sub- 
ject clearer.  We  do  see  it  to  be  a  growth,  and 
that  moral  life  has  continuity  like  all  other  life. 
The  conscience  of  to-day  is  more  enlightened 
than  —  is  certainly  different  from  —  the  conscience 
of  a  past  age.  There  are  things  which  would 


CULTURE   OF   CONSCIENCE  215 

not  be  tolerated  now,  which  before  were  taken 
as  a  matter  of  course.  The  Christian  conscience 
differs  from  the  pagan  conscience  which  it  super- 
seded. The  mistake  which  is  often  made  is  the 
very  strange  one  that  because  we  know  con- 
science to  be  a  growth,  because  we  can  to  some 
extent  trace  its  origin,  therefore  it  has  lost  its 
divine  authority.  It  is  a  very  common  mistake  to 
imagine  that  because  we  can  understand  in  some 
measure  how  a  thing  came  to  be  we  have  there- 
fore explained  it.  A  description  of  a  process  is 
supposed  to  be  an  explanation  of  existence.  The 
same  mistake  is  being  made  all  along  the  line 
of  our  scientific  investigation.  Because  we  can 
see  how  life  works  and  unfolds  itself,  developing 
from  form  to  form,  therefore  we  have  disposed 
of  the  mystery  of  life.  Because  we  can  trace 
the  genesis  of  mind,  or  at  least  can  partially 
open  up  the  stages  of  its  development,  therefore 
we  have  explained  the  mystery  of  mind.  Some- 
times even  a  scientific  definition,  if  learnedly 
worded,  is  taken  to  be  a  sufficient  explanation. 
Rather  the  opposite  is  the  case.  The  more 
knowledge  we  possess  regarding  anything,  the 
more  reverence  should  we  have;  for  the  more 
do  we  see  our  essential  ignorance. 


216  CULTURE  OF  CONSCIENCE 

All  questions  on  the  origin  of  conscience  are 
practically  of  secondary  importance.  How  it 
came  that  men  have  learned  knowledge  of  right 
and  wrong,  how  they  came  to  recognise  personal 
responsibility  before  an  internal  tribunal,  how 
they  were  led  to  see  this  to  be  right  and  that 
to  be  wrong  —  the  mere  process  is  not  of  supreme 
value  though  it  is  of  very  great  interest.  What 
is  of  supreme  importance  is  that  we  should 
accept  the  fact.  The  conscience  is  no  more 
discredited  by  evolution  than  the  body  is.  When 
we  are  compelled  to  modify  the  old  intuitional 
theory  of  conscience,  it  does  not  lose  its  sacred- 
ness  or  its  authority.  We  know  that  the  Chris- 
tian conscience,  which  imperfectly  governs  our 
civilisation,  did  not  come  full-grown  by  a  miracle, 
like  Minerva  armed  and  complete  out  of  the 
brain  of  Jove.  It  has  grown,  and  is  growing. 
It  is  the  fruit  of  the  spirit  of  Christ  working  in 
us  and  in  the  world.  And  we  ourselves  confess 
how  partially  we  have  realised  it,  what  higher 
moral  reaches  remain  open  to  us  as  a  community 
and  as  individuals.  It  is  our  sorrow  and  shame 
that  the  conscience  of  the  Church  on  many  things 
should  be  so  unenlightened,  and  the  conscience 
of  the  world  hard  and  untouched  regarding  many 


CULTURE   OF   CONSCIENCE  217 

social  evils,  and  our  own  consciences  not  so 
tender  and  scrupulous  and  susceptible  as  they 
ought  to  be.  We  know  that  conscience  has 
grown ;  for  it  is  our  prayer  that  it  should  grow. 
Now,  it  is  only  in  relation  to  others  that  it  can 
thus  grow.  The  chief  good  which  our  modern 
methods  of  study  has  brought  us  is  the  convic- 
tion that  conscience  is  a  social  thing  and  is 
developed  through  society,  and  can  only  be 
permanent  when  it  is  registered  on  social  con- 
ditions. It  is  not  enough  that  one  here  and 
there  should  have  higher  aspirations  and  a  purer 
standard  than  others.  The  work  of  the  Church 
is  to  affect  the  public  conscience  ;  for  as  the  social 
conscience  is,  so  in  the  long  run  is  the  individual 
conscience.  Take  the  things  which  are  branded 
by  law  and  custom  as  sins  and  crimes.  Some 
of  these  things  we  cannot  imagine  ourselves, 
whether  we  would  commit  them  or  not,  thinking 
of  them  otherwise  than  as  sins  and  crimes.  That 
is  because  they  are  indelibly  burned  into  our  con- 
science. But  there  are  other  things  in  business 
and  in  general  life  which  are  kept  sinful  to  us 
just  because  of  the  public  conscience  on  the 
subject.  If  our  environment  were  changed, 
would  we  hold  tenaciously  to  all  the  points  of 


218  CULTURE  OF  CONSCIENCE 

moral  living  which  we  possess  now  ?  As  a 
matter  of  fact  it  is  found  when  such  restraints 
are  removed  that  often  men  revert  to  a  lower 
level  of  moral  life  and  thought.  That  is  found 
too  commonly  in  countries  where  there  is  no 
Christian  standard  and  no  public  conscience  on 
certain  points. 

But  while  that  is  true  and  represents  the  work 
the  Church  has  to  do  to  elevate  the  whole  mass 
and  Christianise  the  laws  and  institutions  and  the 
community  generally,  still  conscience  is  also  a 
personal  thing  as  well  as  a  social.  The  appeal 
to  conscience  can  be  made  just  because  the 
individual  can  rise  above  the  level  of  his  day. 
To  live  according  to  the  public  conscience 
merely  is  to  live  a  very  somnolent  moral  life. 
After  all  it  does  not  need  a  very  strong  spiritual 
sense  and  a  highly  vitalised  conscience  just  to 
keep  out  of  jail,  and  even  to  perform  all  that  is 
expected  of  us  in  a  creditable  manner.  Most  of 
us  do  not  deserve  any  great  praise  for  being 
fairly  decent  and  respectable,  we  are  hedged  in 
and  protected  so  securely  by  an  inherited  con- 
science and  the  social  conscience  that  is  in  the 
very  atmosphere  around  us.  It  is  all  the  con- 
science that  many  of  us  have.  But  this  is  not 


CULTURE   OF   CONSCIENCE  219 

enough.  Conscience  has  its  proper  play  when  a 
man  rises  to  a  higher  level  of  moral  practice  than 
that  on  all  sides  of  him.  Conscience  is  not 
merely  a  moral  policeman  to  prevent  outrages 
against  the  law  of  right.  That  is  a  low  view 
of  it,  though  general.  The  testimony  of  our 
conscience  should  not  be  merely  a  negative 
one  denouncing  sins  —  as  with  Shakespeare's 
Richard  III. 

My  conscience  hath  a  thousand  several  tongues, 
And  every  tongue  brings  in  a  several  tale, 
And  every  tale  condemns  me  for  a  villain. 

Conscience  is  not  a  mere  registering  machine 
to  estimate  the  value  of  our  particular  acts,  con- 
demning us  to  remorse  when  we  go  far  astray, 
but  it  may  be  a  spiritual  influence  to  prompt  to  a 
higher  moral  level.  It  is  a  teacher  encouraging 
to  purer  and  grander  things,  seeking  to  implant 
an  aspiration  after  an  ideal  of  virtue  which  will 
never  be  satisfied.  That  is  why  it  is  the  voice  of 
God,  not  only  rebuking  a  man  for  evil,  but  calling 
him  with  irresistible  impulse  towards  the  good. 

The  feature  of  conscience  in  all  its  stages  is  the 
acceptance  of  obligation.  The  particular  obliga- 
tions have  differed  in  the  different  stages,  the 
ideas  of  right  and  wrong  being  often  imperfect 


220  CULTURE  OF  CONSCIENCE 

enough.  The  history  of  conscience  is  a  history 
of  clearer  conception  of  what  we  ought  to,  and, 
therefore,  must  be  and  do.  It  has  been  an 
education.  The  race  had  to  learn  to  discriminate, 
and  with  every  fresh  light  it  has  seen  the  path  it 
must  tread,  and  that  for  the  time  has  been  God's 
perfect  will.  Conscience  has  ever  meant  this 
sense  of  obligation,  the  idea  of  a  law,  a  higher 
will,  a  standard  somewhere  to  which  we  must 
conform.  Obligation,  constraint,  almost  moral 
necessity,  have  been  laid  on  men.  I  ought,  you 
ought,  we  ought.  At  every  stage  of  conscience 
there  has  been  this  constraint,  the  conception  of 
some  law  which  it  behoved  men  to  obey.  That 
is  why  conscience,  even  when  imperfect,  has  been 
to  the  world  the  sacred  flame  which  it  dare  not 
let  die,  a  divine  light,  part  of  the  Light  that 
lighteth  every  man  that  cometh  into  the  world. 

Bishop  Butler,  in  his  great  sermons  on  Human 
Nature,  after  establishing  the  supremacy  of  the 
moral  element  in  life,  sums  up  in  these  words : 
'  Nothing  can  be  more  evident  than  that,  exclusive 
of  revelation,  man  cannot  be  considered  as  a 
creature  left  by  his  Maker  to  act  at  random,  and 
live  at  large  up  to  the  extent  of  his  natural 
power,  as  passion,  humour,  wilfulness,  happen  to 


CULTURE   OF   CONSCIENCE  221 

carry  him ;  which  is  the  condition  brute  creatures 
are  in  ;  but  that  from  his  make,  constitution,  or 
nature,  he  is  in  the  strictest  and  most  proper 
sense  a  law  to  himself.  He  hath  the  rule  of 
right  within  :  what  is  wanting  is  only  that  he 
honestly  attend  to  it.'  It  is  not  necessary  to  go 
into  disputed  questions  as  to  the  origin  and 
growth  of  conscience  in  order  to  understand  and 
accept  this  sense  of  obligation.  Practically  the 
conscience  means  the  moral  sentiment  which  is 
an  instinct  in  us.  It  is  our  recognition  of,  and 
obligation  to,  a  higher  law  than  our  own  will  or 
pleasure.  To  enlighten  and  educate  and  train 
our  conscience  represents  the  great  moral  task  of 
life.  If  we  never  honestly  attend  to  this  sphere 
of  our  nature  we  are  not  dealing  fairly  by  our 
own  powers.  If  care  and  cultivation  are  needed 
elsewhere,  how  can  we  assume  that  here  nothing 
is  required  but  a  policy  of  drift?  Rather,  much 
more  important  is  it  to  have  a  trained  and  tender 
conscience  than  to  have  a  learned  and  educated 
mind ;  for  the  direction  of  life  and  its  real  safety 
depend  most  of  all  on  moral  sanctions.  'There 
is  something  very  great  and  blessed  as  well  as 
inevitable,'  says  Rothe  in  his  Still  Hours,  'in  the 
fact  that  our  mind  is  in  agreement  and  harmony 


222  CULTURE   OF   CONSCIENCE 

with  the  eternal  and  inviolable  laws  of  the  world 
and  its  Creator.  The  bringing  about  of  this 
harmony  in  himself  is  one  of  the  chief  duties  in 
the  self-training  of  the  individual.' 

How  is  the  conscience  to  be  trained  ?  It  is 
done  by  obedience  to  its  dictates,  by  responding 
promptly  to  our  sense  of  right,  by  a  life  sur- 
rendered to  duty.  Obedience  is  the  test  of  our 
advance  in  moral  life.  Conscientiousness  is  the 
only  proof  of  conscience,  as  faithfulness  is  the 
proof  of  faith  and  service  is  the  proof  of  love. 
And  obedience  is  not  only  the  test  of  moral 
attainment,  but  it  is  also  the  method  of  attaining. 
Enlightenment  through  obedience  is  the  ap- 
proved religious  method.  The  blessing  comes 
to  those  who  are  in  the  way  of  the  command- 
ments. We  often  reverse  the  process,  and  con- 
cern ourselves  with  difficulties  to  be  explained 
and  questions  to  be  answered  and  contradictions 
to  be  reconciled.  We  begin  by  wanting  to  know 
rather  than  by  wanting  to  obey.  We  make 
religion  too  much  a  matter  of  opinion,  of  know- 
ledge, of  enlightenment,  and  think  we  do  well  to 
refuse  to  go  a  step  further  than  we  can  see.  We 
ask,  What  is  truth?  when  it  would  be  more  to 
the  point  if  we  asked  oftener,  What  is  duty  ? 


CULTURE   OF  CONSCIENCE  223 

Truth  is  reached  through  obedience.  Loyalty  to 
conscience  brings  light.  The  constant  effort  to 
do  what  is  right  gives  the  spiritual  discernment 
to  recognise  what  is  right.  There  are  more 
pressing  questions  than  the  speculative  ones  — 
questions  raised  to  every  soul  of  us  by  uneasy 
consciences  and  turbulent  wills,  by  unfulfilled 
duty  and  unworthy  lives.  When  we  are  honest 
with  ourselves  the  questions  that  trouble  us  to 
the  heart  are  not  how  to  reconcile  this  with  that, 
but  how  to  reconcile  what  we  are  with  what  we 
ought  to  be. 

Now,  conscience  is  a  practical  guide  for  the 
conduct  of  life,  not  for  settling  speculative  ques- 
tions. Our  real  difficulties  are  practical,  not 
speculative.  We  may  cheat  ourselves  into  the 
belief  that  if  we  had  only  some  philosophical  or 
doctrinal  doubt  settled  we  would  have  got  rid  of 
all  our  difficulties.  These  are  not  the  things 
that  are  keeping  us  from  what  we  acknowledge 
to  be  our  highest  life.  It  is  a  common  expedi- 
ent to  get  rid  of  the  obligation  of  our  practical 
conscience  by  perplexing  ourselves  with  what 
are  called  cases  of  conscience.  It  is  usually  a 
form  of  self-deception.  We  often  want  an 
excuse  for  fulfilling  our  lower  desires.  We 


224  CULTURE  OF  CONSCIENCE 

pretend  we  cannot  separate  right  from  wrong 
and  we  are  in  straits  how  to  reconcile  the  facts  of 
life  with  the  facts  of  religion.  We  try  to  mystify 
ourselves  sometimes  by  showing  that  there  are 
two  sides  to  every  question.  The  truth  is  this, 
that  often  we  seek  excuse  to  lead  a  lower  moral 
life  than  our  conscience  would  let  us.  The  worst 
of  it  is  that  the  very  keenness  of  conscience 
against  which  we  struggle  is  a  proof  that  we 
might  help  the  world  to  truer  life,  while  we  are 
trying  to  cozen  our  soul  into  the  belief  that  our 
standard  is  absurd  and  morbid. 

In  the  hour  of  temptation  the  one  practical 
rule  is  to  cling  to  conscience  as  to  life.  Passion 
draws  a  man  into  its  smothering  folds  and  in 
weakness  he  gives  in,  believing  that  thus  he  will 
get  rest  from  the  struggle  and  rest  from  con- 
science. He  is  only  piling  up  the  fires  of  his 
own  hell.  In  the  heat  of  temptation  our  only 
chance  lies  in  conscience  as  representing  God  to 
us.  The  question  is  not  the  abstract  one  as  to  the 
absolute  reliability  of  conscience,  but  this  practi- 
cal and  particular  evil  against  which  conscience 
protests.  In  spite  of  all  sophistry,  duty  in  this 
particular  thing  is  clear.  There  is  a  leading  of 
God,  a  place  where  he  meets  man  and  prompts 


CULTURE   OF  CONSCIENCE  225 

to  the  higher  life,  and  that  place  is  the  sanctuary 
of  conscience. 

Further,  conscience  needs  to  be  enlightened. 
It  has  to  be  trained  by  accepting  all  the  personal 
and  social  obligations  of  our  situation,  and  to  be 
reinforced  by  the  fruits  of  knowledge  and  ex- 
perience. Conscience  needs  to  be  guided  by 
thought  and  judgment  and  sensitive  feeling,  or  it 
may  become  an  organ  of  wrong  instead  of  right 
—  and  this  although  it  is  really  active  and  re- 
sponsive. An  unenlightened  conscience  may  be 
very  scrupulous  and  exacting  and  susceptible  to 
impressions,  and  all  the  time  be  an  engine  of  evil 
in  the  life  and  in  the  world.  It  may  become 
bigoted  and  fanatical,  making  a  man  self- 
opinionative  and  harsh  and  even  cruel.  In 
obedience  to  conscience  men  have  perpetrated 
hideous  crimes  because  conscience  was  perverted. 
A  difference  of  opinion  has  often  been  made  an 
excuse  for  censorious  judgments  and  for  cruel 
oppression.  Conscientiousness  is  a  great  quality 
of  moral  living,  but  it  needs  to  be  informed  and 
enlightened  by  knowledge  and  to  be  made 
tender  by  deep  feeling.  A  narrow  conception  of 
duty  may  thus  rob  a  man  of  his  legitimate 
influence  over  others.  Goodness  needs  thought 
Q 


226  CULTURE   OF   CONSCIENCE 

and  reason  before  she  can  take  her  regal  place. 
Goodness  means  the  sanctification  of  all  the 
powers  of  our  nature.  We  have  here  another 
illustration  of  the  need  of  proportional  growth, 
for  like  other  capacities,  conscience  cannot  be 
made  the  most  of  if  taken  singly  by  itself. 

Conscience  needs  to  be  educated  through  re- 
flection, as  only  thus  can  duty  grow  clear. 
Conscience  becomes  more  sure  in  its  discrimi- 
nation as  it  is  enlightened  by  knowledge  and 
reflection.  Coleridge  has  a  profoundly  true 
comment  on  this  point.  'Few  are  so  obdurate, 
few  have  sufficient  strength  of  character  to  be 
able  to  draw  forth  an  evil  tendency  or  immoral 
practice  into  distinct  consciousness,  without 
bringing  it  in  the  same  moment  before  an 
awakened  conscience.  But  for  this  very  reason 
it  becomes  the  duty  of  conscience  to  form  the 
mind  to  a  habit  of  distinct  consciousness.  An 
unreflecting  Christian  walks  in  twilight  amongst 
snares  and  pitfalls.'1  Mental  and  moral  growth 
go  together.  A  forward  moral  impulse  serves 
also  the  highest  purposes  of  intellect.  A  true 
and  deep  religious  character  carries  with  it  the 
quickening  of  the  whole  being,  among  other 

1  Aids  to  Reflection. 


CULTURE   OF   CONSCIENCE  227 

things  enlarging  the  mental  horizon.  Often  men 
of  no  formal  education  have  attained  an  intel- 
lectual outlook  from  their  sincere  religious  faith, 
which  has  given  them  sympathy  with  all  large 
thoughts  and  all  high  purposes. 

Conversely,  intellectual  culture  should  develop 
moral  character.  A  trained  intelligence  can 
deal  with  cases  of  conscience,  with  difficulties  of 
moral  choice,  and  should  find  its  way  easily  to 
wise  and  consistent  decisions.  When  intellectual 
development  is  accompanied  by  moral  growth  it 
gains  in  richness  and  security.  Milton  dedicated 
himself  early  to  the  great  task  which  he  felt  to 
be  his  portion  in  life,  to  leave  something  so 
written  to  after  times  as  they  should  not  willingly 
let  die.  As  he  strove  to  qualify  himself  for  his 
vocation  of  poet  he  laboured  strenuously  to 
equip  his  mind  fully ;  but  he  saw  deeper  into  the 
sources  of  all  great  achievement,  and  knew  'that 
he  who  would  not  be  frustrate  of  his  hope  to 
write  well  hereafter  in  laudable  things  ought 
himself  to  be  a  true  poem ;  that  is,  a  composition 
and  pattern  of  the  best  and  honourablest  things ; 
not  presuming  to  sing  high  praises  of  heroic  men 
or  famous  cities  unless  he  have  in  himself  the 
experience  and  the  practice  of  all  that  which  is 


228  CULTURE  OF  CONSCIENCE 

praiseworthy.'  His  self-cultivation  included  a  deep 
moral  purpose,  a  determination  to  do  nothing  that 
would  taint  his  mind  or  blunt  his  conscience. 
Few  poets  or  artists  have  given  themselves  so 
completely  to  such  an  ideal  as  Milton,  and,  as  Dr. 
Johnson  said,  it  is  from  such  a  fervid  and  pious 
promise  might  be  expected  the  Paradise  Lost. 
A  man  of  genius  may  be  the  victim  of  appetite 
or  passion  and  yet  create  some  great  and 
beautiful  works,  but  the  character  which  his  life 
is  creating  will  leave  its  mark  upon  his  work  and 
will  weaken  his  capacity.  In  the  long  run  the 
gains  of  intellect  are  only  secured  and  conserved 
by  moral  character. 

We  cannot  deal  with  conscience  apart  from 
the  will ;  for  the  moral  choice  of  life  is  bound  up 
both  with  conscience  and  will.  If  it  is  necessary 
to  distinguish  between  these  two  powers,  we  can 
say  that  will  is  conscience  put  into  action.  The 
sphere  of  our  own  free  will  is  the  arena  of  all 
moral  fights,  and  at  every  point  of  moral  choice 
the  conscience  makes  itself  heard.  In  practical 
ethics  all  action  must  be  regarded  as  the  fruit 
of  the  will.  We  sometimes  speak  in  common 
language  of  doing  a  thing  against  our  will,  but 
that  is  only  an  inaccuracy  of  speech.  We  may 


CULTURE   OF   CONSCIENCE 


229 


do  an  act  against  our  judgment,  and  against 
what  we  admit  should  be  our  will,  against  the 
better  part  of  our  nature,  but  the  will  is  the 
responsible  agent  of  the  act.  We  may,  and  do, 
often  deceive  ourselves,  thinking  that  the  citadel 
of  our  will  is  intact  though  we  have  surrendered 
to  evil  in  life,  by  pretending  that  a  course  of 
action  is  due  not  at  all  to  our  will  but  to  some 
necessity  of  environment.  But  that  only  means 
that  the  particular  motive  or  temptation  has 
advanced  sufficiently  strong  inducements  to 
capture  the  power  of  will.  When  Romeo  went 
to  the  old  apothecary  to  purchase  poison  with- 
out disguising  that  the  poison  was  to  be  used 
for  an  illegal  object,  Shakespeare  makes  the 
apothecary  give  the  poison  for  the  sake  of  the 
reward,  using  this  as  a  salve  to  his  conscience, 
'My  poverty  and  not  my  will  consents.'  Nay, 
it  was  against  his  conscience,  against  his  better 
judgment,  but  not  against  his  will.  The  tempta- 
tion was  too  strong  for  his  will,  and  the  selling  of 
the  poison  to  be  used  for  suicide  was  his  will. 
The  poverty  was  only  the  motive  which  drove 
his  will  in  that  direction.  In  all  questions  of 
morals  we  come  back  to  the  will,  and  fasten 
responsibility  there. 


230  CULTURE   OF   CONSCIENCE 

So  all-important  is  the  will  in  the  moral  judg- 
ment of  a  man,  that  we  can  say  that  according 
to  the  character  of  the  will  is  the  character  of  the 
life.  Even  in  worldly  business  we  know  how 
men  are  separated  into  classes  by  differences  of 
will.  One  man  is  of  what  we  call  a  strong  will, 
knowing  what  he  means  and  wants,  and  usually 
gets  it.  The  man  of  irresolute  will  is  also  of 
feckless  life.  The  will  must  be  trained  if  we  are 
to  have  any  real  mastery  over  our  lives.  We 
must  practice  decisions,  to  avoid  the  vice  of 
irresolution.  We  know  the  value  of  a  resolute 
will,  not  only  in  practical  affairs,  but  in  the 
things  of  intellect,  where  mental  concentration 
seems  to  depend  on  it.  In  moral  culture  also  it 
is  essential,  and  means  the  trained  ability  to 
reject  certain  thoughts  and  courses.  This  is  the 
great  strategy  against  temptation,  to  call  up 
other  reserve  forces  and  turn  the  enemy's  flank 
by  different  thoughts  and  nobler  imaginations. 
Also,  when  conscience  bears  witness  to  a  duty,  let 
the  will  set  about  performing  it,  and  both  will 
grow  in  strength. 

As  intellect  is  based  on  moral  character,  so 
character  is  fed  by  religion.  The  gains  of  moral 
life  are  secured  by  a  reach  forward  into  the 


CULTURE   OF   CONSCIENCE  231 

spiritual  life.  We  touch  here  the  subject  of  our 
next  chapter,  the  Culture  of  Spirit.  Only  thus 
can  the  conscience  be  fully  illumined  and 
educated,  and  the  will  be  strengthened  and  in- 
spired. Experience  shows  to  all  of  us  the  truth 
in  the  old  parable  of  life  which  represents  a  man 
offered  two  alternatives,  the  allurement  of  the 
ideal  and  the  enticement  of  the  real.  State  them 
how  we  will,  the  alternatives  are  the  facts  of  life 
to  us.  We  can  only  truly  fulfil  ourselves  through 
loyalty  to  the  moral  law  and  adherence  to  the 
ideal.  If  we  follow  simply  and  sincerely  we  are 
not  long  left  in  darkness  or  in  doubt  as  to  duty, 
and  one  of  the  rewards  is  the  joy  of  a  good  con- 
science. '  Have  a  good  conscience,'  says  Thomas 
a  Kempis,  'and  thou  shalt  ever  have  joy.'  Well, 
even  if  there  is  not  a  very  jubilant  joy  through 
over-much  struggle,  there  will  be  at  least  some 
measure  of  peace. 


CULTURE   OF  SPIRIT 


'  The  soul  of  all  culture  is  the  culture  of  the  soul.' 

—  BUSHNELL. 


CHAPTER   IX 

CULTURE  OF   SPIRIT 

T  IFE  in  its  deepest  sense  in  the  Bible  is  more 
•• — '  than  the  space  of  time  between  birth  and 
death,  and  more  than  material  existence  and  the 
continuance  of  the  vital  forces.  It  combines  all 
the  functions  of  being.  It  finds  a  due  place  for 
all  the  powers  and  needs  of  man.  Life  means, 
besides  the  material  existence,  all  that  makes 
man  distinctive.  It  is  the  fulness  of  all  his 
powers,  the  completion  of  all  his  possibilities.  In 
addition  to  the  material  and  the  mental  there  is 
the  spiritual.  A  man  is  not  said  to  live  in  this 
sense  unless  he  has  part  in  the  life  of  God.  It 
speaks  of  his  entering  into  life  when  he  enters 
into  relationship  with  God.  Religion  has  to  do 
with  the  whole  life,  every  power  and  every  detail, 
but  it  means  first  of  all  a  higher  principle  of  life 
which  recreates  the  whole.  Not  merely  to  draw 
the  breath,  not  merely  to  perform  the  functions 
of  animal  existence,  and  not  even  to  have  a  com- 
235 


236  CULTURE   OF   SPIRIT 

plete  intellectual  and  emotional  development,  but 
to  be  spiritually-minded  is  life.  Can  we  be  said 
to  have  truly  lived  so  far  ?  When  we  realise  this 
deeper  demand  of  our  own  nature  and  our 
clamant  spiritual  needs  left  unsatisfied,  we  under- 
stand Augustine's  lament  after  searching  into  his 
heart  and  describing  what  he  was  at  his  worst 
and  at  his  best,  '  Such  was  my  life.  But  was  it 
life,  O  my  God  ? ' 

Commonplace  psychology  ignores  this  spiritual 
sphere,  or  speaks  of  the  facts  in  this  region  of 
human  life  as  morbid,  though  for  the  credit 
of  this  science  modern  psychologists  are  be- 
ginning to  accept  these  facts  of  the  soul  with 
the  same  reverence  as  they  accept  other  facts. 
They  are  coming  to  see  that  this  subject  cannot 
be  dismissed  by  disparaging  it  in  comparison 
with  the  seemingly  clear-cut  truths  of  the  exact 
sciences.  It  is  not  enough  to  reject  the  claim  of 
religion  on  the  ground  that  it  is  so  vague  and 
indefinite,  or  that  it  is  impossible  to  reach  a 
consensus  of  opinion  on  every  point  of  religion. 
The  higher  a  human  faculty  is,  the  more  liable 
it  is  to  be  abused.  The  mistakes  that  can  be 
made  about  it  increase  in  proportion  to  its 
delicacy  of  nature.  The  finer  the  machinery, 


CULTURE  OF   SPIRIT  237 

the  more  mischief  can  coarse,  blundering  ringers 
make.  It  is  only  to  be  expected  that  in  the 
spiritual  sphere  this  should  be  specially  seen. 
That  is  one  reason  why  it  seems  impossible 
to  get  unanimity  in  religion.  Our  sects  are 
often  the  exaggeration  of  different  sides  of 
truth.  In  the  intellectual  life  of  man  the  con- 
fusion is  great  enough,  seen  in  the  differences 
of  opinion  on  any  question  political  or  other- 
wise, and  in  the  difficulty  of  arriving  at  clear 
views  on  any  subject.  The  possibility  of  error 
is  increased  in  dealing  with  the  still  higher 
sphere  of  spirit.  The  mistakes  of  religion  have 
been  many,  the  superstitions,  the  foolish  notions, 
the  undue  prominence  of  particular  phases.  So 
apparent  is  this  danger  and  so  palpable  have 
been  the  blunders,  that  some  have  declared  that 
truth  here  cannot  be  discovered,  that  religion 
is  not  for  us,  that  God  is  unknowable  to  man ; 
in  other  words,  that  it  is  better  to  live  in  the 
lower  plane  where  we  have  less  chance  to  err. 
This  is  the  agnostic  position.  But  if  the  soul 
is  to  be  put  out  of  court  on  such  reasoning, 
on  the  same  ground  also  should  the  intellect; 
for  here  too  are  found  error  and  mistake. 
Reason  is  not  an  infallible  guide,  as  a  dis- 


238  CULTURE  OF   SPIRIT 

tracted  world  can  testify.  Indeed,  there  are 
men  who  have  given  up  thought  for  precisely 
the  same  reason  that  some  thinkers  have  given 
up  religion.  The  mental  life  can  be  denied 
as  reasonably  as  the  spiritual.  The  true  and 
even  scientific  attitude  is  for  us  to  live  up  to 
our  capacities.  The  very  glimmerings  and  dis- 
tortions and  reflections  and  mirage  are  evidences 
that  there  is  light.  We  need  patience  and 
humble  seeking  and  careful  correction  of  error 
in  spiritual  truth  as  in  scientific  truth.  Here, 
too,  the  soul  that  seeks  finds. 

Now  it  is  a  fact  of  history  and  life  that  man 
is  capable  of  spiritual  training,  which  is  some- 
thing other  than  mere  mental  acquirements. 
The  agnostic  position  is  unscientific;  for  it  is 
to  prejudge  and  set  an  arbitrary  limit  to  man's 
possibilities.  There  may  be  an  obscurantism 
of  science  as  well  as  of  religion.  The  true 
attitude  begins  by  accepting  the  facts ;  and 
religion  is  a  fact  of  history  and  experience. 
It  is  not  enough  to  wave  aside  airily  this  whole 
question  of  spiritual  intuition  because  it  happens 
to  be  mysterious.  Still  worse  is  it  to  pass  over 
all  the  experiences  that  speak  of  intercourse 
between  the  spirit  of  man  and  of  God,  as  if 


CULTURE   OF   SPIRIT  239 

they  meant  only  some  form  of  disease.  Sabatier, 
in  his  Life  of  the  Apostle  Paul,  asks,  '  Where 
could  we  find  a  more  wholesome  mental  con- 
stitution than  belonged  to  Socrates  or  to  Luther ; 
where  a  more  true  and  delicate  conscience  than 
that  of  Joan  of  Arc?  And  yet  we  know  that 
their  spiritual  life  had  its  source  far  beyond  the 
sphere  of  pure  reason.  If  this  faculty  of  mystical 
exaltation  is  a  disease,  we  should  have  to  acknow- 
ledge that  Jesus,  despite  the  harmony  of  His 
nature,  possessed  an  unsound  mind ;  for  He  had 
His  moments  of  ecstasy  —  sacred  moments  which 
a  coarse,  vulgar  understanding  profanes  by  calling 
them  hallucinations.  No ;  this  is  not  the  sign 
of  a  morbid  disposition.  In  truth  he  is  much 
rather  the  sick  man  who  has  never  known  any 
state  but  that  of  dry,  cold  reason.  What  else 
is  religion  ?  what  is  prayer  and  adoration  but  an 
exaltation  of  spirit  ? ' 

We  may  call  spiritual  qualities  only  the  finer 
attribute  of  mind  if  we  like,  but  we  do  not  thus 
shift  the  problem  raised  by  the  facts.  And 
whenever  we  admit  the  facts  of  spiritual  ex- 
perience, immediately  duty  emerges.  The  duty 
regarding  spirit  is  as  plain  as  duty  regarding 
body  or  mind.  We  do  not  stop  to  ask  whether 


240  CULTURE   OF   SPIRIT 

we  can  really  understand  facts  essentially  before 
we  will  accept  anything  as  fact.  We  do  not  stop 
to  ask  whether  we  can  know  absolute  truth  before 
we  try  to  find  out  what  things  are  true.  Why 
should  we  refuse  to  entertain  the  thought  of  God, 
because  we  cannot  know  God  in  His  essence  and 
nature  ?  If  men  through  all  these  centuries  have 
known  some  form  of  communion  with  the  divine, 
can  it  be  that  now  at  last  it  is  all  a  delusion? 
To  hold  such  a  view  of  history  would  be  to 
despair  of  all  knowledge  and  progress.  Browning 
makes  Cleon  ask  this  question  — 

The  grapes  which  dye  thy  wine  are  richer  far, 
Through  culture,  than  the  wild  wealth  of  the  rock; 
The  suave  plum  than  the  savage-tasted  drupe ; 
The  pastured  honey-bee  drops  choicer  sweet ; 
The  flowers  turn  double  and  the  leaves  turn  flowers ; 
What,  and  the  soul  alone  deteriorates  ? 

To  hold  such  a  view  is  to  deny  all  history  and 
to  deny  all  law  of  progress.  Religion  is  con- 
scious union  with  God ;  but  whether  we  are 
conscious  of  it  or  not,  our  whole  life  is  bathed 
in  the  infinite  life.  Wherever  there  is  a  door  out 
from  the  self  of  man,  God  stands  at  the  door  and 
knocks.  In  every  region  of  our  nature  there  is 
this  contact  with  the  infinite,  in  the  ideal  of 
knowledge,  in  the  ideal  of  holiness,  in  every 


CULTURE   OF    SPIRIT  241 

aspiration  towards  that  which  is  beyond.  We  are 
enswathed  and  suffused  by  the  infinite  life  of  God, 
and  until  we  enter  into  conscious  relationship 
with  the  divine,  we  are  incomplete  and  imperfect. 
Duty  comes  to  us  the  moment  we  admit  this 
fact.  That  is  to  say,  a  man  is  not  justified  in 
saying  that  he  does  not  happen  to  possess  this 
peculiar  organ  of  religious  knowledge,  that  he 
does  not  have  these  spiritual  experiences,  and 
therefore  it  is  not  for  him  to  bother  about  it.  He 
is  not  justified  in  adopting  this  attitude,  for  one 
thing  because  it  is  not  true.  He  constantly  uses 
the  very  faculties  in  his  relations  with  his  fellows 
which  can  be  raised  to  the  higher  pitch  that  will 
give  him  a  conscious  relation  also  to  God.  The 
carnal  mind  which  St.  Paul  speaks  about  is  not  a 
different  mind  from  the  spiritual,  but  is  the  same 
mind  vitalised,  so  to  speak.  The  carnal  is  not 
hopelessly  divided  from  the  spiritual,  separated 
by  an  impassable  gulf.  When  St.  Paul  made 
this  distinction  between  the  carnal  and  the 
spiritual,1  he  speaks  of  the  former  as  babes 
who  have  not  grown  up  into  their  possibilities. 
St.  Paul,  in  other  words,  affirms  man's  natural 
affinity  to  God.  The  organ  may  be  rudi- 

1 1  Cor.  iii.  I,  2. 


242  CULTURE  OF   SPIRIT 

mentary,  but  it  is  there.  The  babe,  if  it 
assimilates  suitable  food,  will  grow  up  out  of 
the  period  of  babyhood  into  manhood.  The 
germ  of  the  spiritual  life  is  in  us  all,  and  will 
grow  if  it  gets  a  chance  of  growth.  We  must 
come  like  children  simply  and  humbly  depend- 
ing on  God,  if  we  would  see  the  Kingdom  ;  and 
when  we  come  and  make  the  venture  of  faith  we 
do  see.  We  are  ushered  into  the  life  of  spirit, 
and  have  the  assurance  of  the  reality  of  the 
spiritual  world.  It  is  spiritually  discerned. 
Faith  is  the  instrument  of  spiritual  discernment ; 
and  when  the  discernment  is  reached,  all  life 
becomes  a  holy  shrine,  where  the  soul  serves  at 
the  altar  priest-like ;  and  when  faith  does  its 
perfect  work,  there  comes  down  over  the  life 
that  sweet  summer-calm  of  spirit  which  some 
have  known,  and  peace  clings  to  the  garments 
like  a  fragrance.  Faith  is  the  instrument  of 
spiritual  discernment,  as  knowledge  is  the  in- 
strument of  mental  culture.  The  just  live  by 
faith.  Religion  is  this  exaltation  of  spirit  above 
the  things  of  sense,  above  even  the  things  of 
intellect,  the  apprehension  of  the  unseen  and 
eternal. 

If  a  man  were  to  live  ever  in  this  golden  light, 


CULTURE   OF   SPIRIT  243 

if  he  were  to  submit  all  his  being  to  God, 
thought,  affections,  desires,  ambitions,  he  could 
indeed,  as  the  Apostle  claims,  judge  all  things 
spiritual,  and  refuse  to  be  judged  of  any  man. 
Who  of  us  stands  on  this  calm  height,  so  stands 
to  the  world  that  we  are  outside  its  judgment, 
because  above  it,  and  can  be  overlooked  by  none 
except  by  God  ?  The  spiritual  in  us  is  over- 
borne, overweighted  by  the  animal.  The  soul 
may  be  said  to  be  in  abeyance  in  us,  in  a  state 
of  suspended  animation,  when  it  is  not  in  im- 
mediate danger  of  being  asphyxiated  for  want 
of  air.  It  is  one  function  of  all  religious  methods 
and  ordinances  to  remind  us  of  the  imperious 
claims  of  the  soul,  to  recall  us  to  our  duty  regard- 
ing it,  to  convince  us  that  we  are  throwing  away 
our  birthright,  and  maiming  our  whole  nature,  if 
we  are  neglecting  our  highest  life. 

The  culture  of  the  spirit  does  not  mean  some 
larger  and  sweeter  pleasure  merely,  but  has  a 
practical  bearing  on  the  whole  of  life.  It  must 
be  admitted  that  there  is  very  little  moral 
dynamic  in  intellect.  It  is  often  a  moral  pre- 
servative, and  can  help  to  fill  up  the  life  with 
good,  but  it  cannot  initiate.  As  mere  negation 
is  not  enough,  we  need  a  power  which  will  lift 


244  CULTURE  OF   SPIRIT 

the  whole  nature  out  of  the  region  of  evil.  A 
principle  of  life  is  needed.  Reason  in  this 
sphere  can  at  best  only  provide  a  suitable  and 
pure  environment  for  a  larger  life.  That  is  good 
so  far,  but  we  need  something  to  beget  the  higher 
life  in  us.  We  cannot  conquer  the  evils  of  the 
lower  life  except  by  living  in  the  higher.  True 
morality  comes,  not  by  the  mortifying  of  the 
flesh,  but  by  the  vitalising  of  the  spirit.  The 
lower  clinging  sins  fall  from  us  when  we  rise. 
They  cannot  live  in  the  rarefied  atmosphere 
above  them.  If  it  is  borne  in  on  a  man  that 
to  make  his  life  truly  livable  he  must  abstain 
from  some  habit,  let  him  abstain ;  but  for  ulti- 
mate victory  he  must  not  rest  in  the  negative 
triumph ;  he  must  get  out  of  the  region  of  the 
struggle,  and  if  possible  forget  it.  It  is  dan- 
gerous to  live  with  a  hungry  appetite,  for  the 
more  it  is  mortified  the  more  hungry  it  becomes. 
If  the  evil  we  have  for  the  time  conquered  still 
engrosses  our  thoughts  and  fills  our  minds,  the 
danger  is  not  past.  The  danger  is  past  when 
we  have  outlived  it,  and  that  can  only  be 
achieved  by  a  spiritual  advance.  The  struggle 
against  temptation  is  the  clearing  of  the  decks 
for  subsequent  action.  It  is  necessary  in  view  of 


CULTURE   OF   SPIRIT  245 

the  action,  but  in  itself  is  not  true  conquest. 
Conquest  comes  from  spiritual-mindedness.  If 
we  move  forward,  we  step  out  of  the  way  of 
many  of  our  difficulties.  A  reach  forward  into 
faith  removes  the  discrepancies  of  knowledge. 
Entrance  into  the  spiritual  destroys  the  power  of 
many  former  doubts.  Usually  it  is  not  explana- 
tion we  need,  but  a  new  standpoint. 

For  some  the  kingdom  has  to  be  entered 
through  struggle  and  soul-travail,  through  dark- 
ness and  doubt ;  but  the  finest  spirits  seem  to 
come  to  the  kingdom  without  that  convulsive 
ordeal,  without  anxious  inquiry  even  into  the 
foundation  of  their  faith.  They  lose  their  hearts 
simply  and  easily  to  the  beauty  of  holiness. 
They  see  the  vision,  and  are  not  disobedient,  but 
follow  after.  Their  native  piety  of  soul  gives 
them  instinctively  the  spiritual  outlook  on  the 
world  and  life.  They  do  not  ask  for  proofs  and 
evidences  and  laborious  argumentation;  for  truth 
seems  to  evidence  itself  to  their  devout  minds. 
There  is  a  lesson  in  this  to  all  that  religion  is 
not  apprehended  logically,  and  we  can  easily 
over-estimate  the  value  of  our  ordinary  apparatus 
for  acquiring  knowledge.  However  the  awaken- 
ing comes,  through  the  severe  birth  pangs  of 


246  CULTURE  OF   SPIRIT 

spiritual  life,  or  the  simpler  way  of  growth,  we 
realise  that  it  is  a  higher  stage.  Consistent  and 
persistent  faith  gives  even  a  distinction  of  man- 
ner. There  comes  naturally  a  certain  separate- 
ness  and  aloofness  from  the  trivial.  The  soul 
that  is  accustomed  to  deal  with  larger  things 
cannot  become  engrossed  and  absorbed  in  petty 
things.  Men  could  not  grow  passionate  about 
trifles  if  they  had  larger  causes  at  heart.  Most 
of  our  bitter  religious  disputes  are  due  to  lack 
of  spiritual  culture.  The  man  who  has  been  in 
the  presence  of  God,  cannot  easily  descend  to 
hair-splitting  argument  and  barren  theology. 

How  are  we  to  attain  to  this  spiritual  dis- 
cernment amid  all  the  entanglement  of  the 
carnal  life  ?  If  we  desire  to  possess  culture  of 
mind,  we  must  lay  hold  of  the  instruments  of 
mental  education.  So  here  in  this  sphjre,  if  we 
are  really  in  earnest  about  it,  we  must  use  all 
the  available  means  of  grace.  We  do  not  suffer 
from  ignorance  of  these  common  things,  to 
provide  which  is  the  chief  duty  of  the  Church  — 
the  value  of  holy  meditation,  of  praise  and 
prayer,  of  devotional  culture,  of  submission  of 
the  life  to  conscience  and  God's  will.  Rather, 
we  need  to  feel  the  imperial  note  of  duty  regard- 


CULTURE   OF   SPIRIT  247 

ing  all  this,  and  to  realise  that  we  are  bound  to 
cultivate  this  spiritual  discernment  which  we 
possess  as  men.  Perhaps  we  will  listen  to  the 
poet's  description  of  these  common  instruments 
of  spiritual  culture,  when  we  might  dismiss  as 
an  oft-told  tale  a  statement  of  religious  method 
in  prose.  In  the  Excursion,  Wordsworth  makes 
the  old  Wanderer  speak  of  the  difficulty  of 
maintaining  heights  of  spirit,  how  beset  we  are 
with  the  things  that  make  for  decline  of  spiritual 
power,  how  we  are  unequally  matched  with  cus- 
tom, time,  and  domineering  faculties  of  sense, 
and  further  entangled  by  temptations  and  vani- 
ties, and  ill-governed  passions  and  discontent  and 
care;  and  he  asks  — 

What  then  remains  ?  —  To  seek 
Those  helps  for  his  occasions  ever  near 
Who  lacks  not  will  to  use  them ;  vows  renewed 
On  the  first  motion  of  a  holy  thought ; 
Vigils  of  contemplation  ;  praise  ;  and  prayer  — 
A  stream,  which  from  the  fountain  of  the  heart 
Issuing,  however  feebly,  nowhere  flows 
Without  access  of  unexpected  strength. 
But  above  all  the  victory  is  most  sure 
For  him  who,  seeking  faith  by  virtue,  strives 
To  yield  entire  submission  to  the  law 
Of  conscience  —  conscience  reverenced  and  obeyed, 
As  God's  most  intimate  presence  in  the  soul, 
And  His  most  perfect  image  in  the  world. 


248  CULTURE   OF   SPIRIT 

If  we  take  this  side  of  our  nature  seriously, 
we  will  use  all  these  methods  of  spiritual 
culture. 

All  the  masters  of  the  devotional  life,  for 
instance,  lay  emphasis  on  prayer.  Perhaps  the 
reason  why  we  lack  the  atmosphere  of  prayer  in 
our  lives  is  because  we  do  not  make  the  oppor- 
tunities. We  must  consciously  and  consistently 
seek  to  live  the  separated  life,  submitting  our- 
selves to  the  discipline  of  heart  and  will  which 
prayer  involves.  No  faculty  is  expected  to 
grow  without  the  suitable  environment  and  fit 
means.  Business  capacity  is  developed  by  a 
business  training,  and  suitable  opportunities  are 
as  much  needed  for  the  soul  life.  We  must 
make  the  occasions.  The  making  of  a  saint  is 
not  the  work  of  a  day,  any  more  than  the 
making  of  a  scholar.  The  devoted  life  is  the 
fruit  of  devotion  :  piety  comes  from  prayer.  If 
we  would  have  moments  on  the  mount,  we  must 
toil  up  the  hill's  rugged  side.  It  is  the  business 
of  a  man  who  has  the  spiritual  ideal  to  fix  his 
mind  on  heavenly  things.  To  gain  the  sweet 
strong  mood  of  calmness,  we  must  develop  the 
contemplative  life.  We  must  confess  that  we 
have  little  of  the  devotional  spirit  among  us. 


CULTURE   OF   SPIRIT  249 

Even  our  religious  life  is  largely  a  matter  of 
activities,  and  what  we  call  Christian  work. 
There  never  were  more  organisation,  more 
machinery,  more  conventions,  and  conferences 
and  committees  ;  but  even  in  the  interests  of  this 
side  of  religion,  we  need  more  attention  to  the 
inward  life.  Our  Christian  activities  cannot  keep 
themselves  going;  they  must  be  fed  by  blood 
from  the  pulsing  heart  of  faith.  The  cold  will 
numb  the  limbs  when  the  heart  slackens  its 
beat.  The  seed  which  springs  up  so  quickly 
and  strongly  will  wither  away  because  it  has 
no  root.  Devotional  culture  requires  the  wise 
and  constant  use  of  means  as  much  as  mental 
culture  does.  As  we  recognise  the  cultured 
mind  with  its  wide  and  accurate  reading,  with 
its  careful  study  and  observation,  so  we  recog- 
nise the  cultured  soul  with  its  peace  and  grace 
and  its  'harvest  of  a  quiet  eye.'  This  separated 
life  is  no  affectation  of  manner.  The  most 
spiritual  men  have  no  pietistic  airs,  and  are  to 
be  found  in  the  market  and  in  the  street  They 
perhaps  do  not  easily  speak  of  the  matters  of 
faith,  but  they  have  taken  the  crooked  places  of 
their  heart  to  God,  and  had  them  made  straight 
there. 


250  CULTURE  OF  SPIRIT 

Even  here,  in  the  highest  culture  of  all,  we 
have  to  guard  against  error,  and  have  to  bring 
it  into  line  with  life.  We  see  in  the  early  Church 
how  the  spiritual  commotion  from  the  influx  of 
new  life  created  great  dangers,  and  the  Church 
had  to  be  guarded  from  excess  and  error  and 
mistaken  standards.  The  Corinthian  Church,  as 
we  gather  from  its  condition  reflected  in  St. 
Paul's  Epistles,  suffered  from  the  fever  of  an 
excessive  vitality,  and  was  beset  by  the  tempta- 
tions of  its  highly  strung  state.  They  were  in- 
clined to  value  the  ecstasy  of  visions  and  to 
despise  the  quiet  calm  walk  of  faith.  They 
were  living  in  an  atmosphere  of  spiritual  excite- 
ment, and  sometimes  even  neglected  the  ordinary 
morality  of  the  Christian  life.  Never  was  there 
more  needed  the  strong  sane  guidance  of  St. 
Paul,  who  combined  a  wonderful  practical  genius 
with  his  perfervid  religious  enthusiasm.  One  of 
the  greatest  dangers  was  the  temptation  to  pride 
and  self-glorification,  which  of  course  led  to 
rivalry  and  unfriendly  criticism  of  others.  This 
is  an  inevitable  danger  of  all  spiritual  exaltation 
and  indeed  of  all  spiritual  culture.  The  tempta- 
tions seem  to  increase  in  subtlety  and  seductive- 
ness the  nearer  we  approach  the  centre  of  life  — 


CULTURE   OF   SPIRIT  251 

The  soul  mounting  higher  to  God,  comes  no  nigher, 
But  the  arch-fiend  Pride  mounts  at  her  side. 

If  a  man  thinks  himself  to  be  specially  spiritual 
or  endowed  with  peculiar  and  exceptional  gifts, 
the  temptation  at  once  arises  to  self-complacency 
if  not  to  arrogant  self-conceit.  St.  Paul  guarded 
against  this  by  reminding  the  Corinthians  that 
all  gifts  come  from  God,  not  of  merit  but  of 
grace,  and  are  given  not  fcr  their  own  sake, 
not  even  for  the  sake  exclusively  of  those  who 
are  favoured  with  them,  but  for  the  larger  sake 
of  the  Church  and  the  world.  The  test  of 
a  gift  is  its  power  of  service.  The  essential 
difference  between  men  lies  not  in  their  different 
gifts  but  in  their  use  of  them.  That  is  to  say, 
it  is  a  difference  of  character,  not  of  capacity. 
In  the  Christian  economy  there  is  no  room  for 
personal  glorification  and  the  clashing  of  vulgar 
ambitions;  for  life  is  not  judged  by  success  but 
by  service. 

It  seems  remarkable  that  spiritually-minded 
men  should  need  to  be  warned  against  the 
temptation  to  pride,  since  these  two  things  are 
incompatible.  The  one  will  kill  the  other,  and 
they  cannot  really  co-exist  together.  But  we 
can  see  where  the  danger  lurks  for  the  unwary 


252  CULTURE   OF    SPIRIT 

soul  — '  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  at  the  very  gate 
of  heaven  there  was  a  door  to  hell.'  This  is  a 
pitfall  for  all  who  dabble  in  the  false  spiritual- 
isms that  have  always  attractions  for  certain 
temperaments.  It  comes  as  a  delicate  flattery 
to  a  man  that  he  is  privileged  to  enter  into 
mysteries  shut  to  others,  that  he  is  specially 
selected  as  a  medium  of  occult  influences  from 
the  spiritual  world.  Vanity  is  a  leaven  that 
works  mischief  in  every  sphere  of  human  life, 
but  nowhere  is  it  so  deadly  as  in  this  highest 
sphere  of  the  spiritual.  In  the  Corinthian 
Church  great  stress  was  laid  on  such  apparent 
marvels  as  the  speaking  with  tongues,  and  the 
humbler  speech  that  could  edify  was  looked 
down  on  as  inferior.  Paul  scarified  this  stand- 
ard of  valuation  with  keen  sarcasm,  and  did 
not  hesitate  to  pronounce  their  esteemed  gift 
of  tongues  as  mere  gibberish  if  there  was  no 
reasonable  interpretation.  He  drew  a  picture 
of  the  whole  Church  gathered  in  one  place  and 
all  speaking  with  tongues.  If  a  simple  un- 
learned person  or  unbeliever  should  come  in 
amidst  the  babel,  he  asked  what  would  be 
thought  of  the  proceedings,  and  answered  by 
the  form  of  his  question,  'Will  they  not  say 


CULTURE    OF   SPIRIT  253 

that  ye  are  mad  ?  '  He  insisted  on  bringing 
all  such  gifts  to  the  test  of  the  practical  and 
the  useful,  and  reversed  the  whole  scale  of 
judging  gifts.  In  the  Christian  life  there  stands 
first,  not  the  mystical  in  faith  but  the  practical, 
not  the  seeing  of  visions  but  the  humble  follow- 
ing of  Christ. 

The  same  subtle  temptation  awaits  all  false 
spiritualisms  with  their  esoteric  doctrines,  with 
their  pretended  insight  into  the  spiritual  world 
closed  to  the  mass  of  men,  their  shadowy  mys- 
ticism which  the  ordinary  mind  cannot  grasp, 
Of  all  spiritual  experience  we  must  ask  how  it 
leads  out  in  practice,  how  it  issues  in  daily  life, 
how  it  affects  character  and  conduct.  Has  it 
led  to  new  insight  into  the  needs  and  tasks  of 
life  ?  Has  it  brought  new  moral  truth  into 
light,  or  reinforced  some  new  aspect  of  the  old 
truth  ?  Has  it  inspired  to  larger  love  and  a 
nobler  sense  of  duty  ?  This  appeal  to  practice 
must  be  made  all  along  the  line  of  spiritual 
life.  There  is  a  swift  and  sure  penalty  for  all 
forms  of  religious  exaggeration  in  the  deteriora- 
tion of  the  spirit  itself,  working  as  we  have  seen 
often  in  conceit  of  self  and  its  usual  accompani- 
ment, censoriousness  of  others.  In  the  same 


254  CULTURE  OF   SPIRIT 

way  the  disease  of  introspection  can  only  be 
cured  by  bringing  faith  out  into  the  light,  by 
judging  the  tree  by  the  fruit.  All  the  authorities 
in  this  sphere  speak  of  the  dangers  of  mere 
high-flying  devotionalism  without  the  steady- 
ing influence  of  conduct.  '  It  is  not  possible 
for  thee,  my  son,'  says  Thomas  a  Kempis,  'to 
continue  in  the  uninterrupted  enjoyment  of 
spiritual  fervour,  nor  always  to  stand  upon  the 
heights  of  pure  contemplation.'  It  is  so  easy 
to  make  feelings  a  substitute  for  practical 
obedience  instead  of  making  them  an  inspira- 
tion to  obey.  There  is  ever  a  danger  of  making 
religion  a  matter  of  emotion  and  not  a  matter 
of  moral  reverence,  without  sense  of  awe  and 
mystery  and  without  the  compulsion  of  con- 
science. To  trust  merely  to  sublime  feelings 
and  high  states  of  soul  without  judging  faith 
by  actual  faithfulness  will  infect  the  whole 
spiritual  life  with  insincerity  and  an  ever- 
weakening  sense  of  unreality. 

We  come,  then,  to  this  further  principle  that 
spiritual-mindedness  must  be  tested  by  the 
moral  conscience  as  well  as  by  practical  life. 
The  spiritual  can  never  be  divorced  from  the 
moral.  The  commandments  of  God  remain, 


CULTURE  OF   SPIRIT  255 

and  by  them  we  must  judge  our  spiritual  state. 
A  man  must  not  violate  his  moral  perception 
even  in  the  supposed  interests  of  religion.  The 
spiritual  life  is  inseparably  related  to  character, 
and  all  spiritual  truth  must  be  tested  by  con- 
science, by  moral  law,  and  if  found  wanting 
there  must  be  amended.  F.  W.  Newman  in 
his  Phases  of  Faith  relates  an  incident  which 
came  under  his  own  knowledge  of  a  man  edu- 
cated and  thoughtful  who  became  a  convert 
to  the  Irving  miracles.  After  several  years 
he  totally  renounced  them  as  a  miserable  delu- 
sion because  he  found  that  a  system  of  false 
doctrine  was  growing  up  and  was  propped  by 
them.  He  was  led  astray  by  intellectually 
seeing  nothing  false  in  the  Irvingite  position: 
he  was  brought  right  by  trusting  to  his  moral 
perceptions.  We  can  only  enter  into  the  region 
of  religion,  and  remain  in  it,  by  moral  sympathy. 
It  begins  as  an  act  of  self-surrender,  but  must 
then  grow  up  into  the  life. 

A  further  principle  for  our  guidance  in  the 
difficulties  of  this  region  is  that  the  reason  should 
be  taken  along  with  the  spirit.  In  the  matter 
of  speaking  with  tongues,  for  example,  Paul  de- 
clared that  a  gift  must  be  to  edification,  and  also 


256  CULTURE   OF   SPIRIT 

that  it  must  be  intelligible.  If  a  man  speaks 
with  tongues  it  is  of  no  earthly  use,  unless  he 
can  interpret  it  and  make  it  plain  and  under- 
standable. For  a  true  and  useful  spiritual  life 
the  reason  should  be  satisfied  as  well  as  the 
emotions.  Sane  and  sober  judgment  is  needed. 
'  If  I  pray  in  an  unknown  tongue  my  spirit 
prayeth  but  my  understanding  is  unfruitful.' 
This  demand  for  balance  of  judgment  would  cure 
much  religious  extravagance  and  one-sidedness  in 
the  acceptance  of  truth.  Scripture  itself  should 
teach  us  balance  and  proportion.  A  great  truth 
can  be  laid  hold  on  in  a  one-sided  way  and 
driven  to  extreme.  It  may  issue  in  some  blind 
fanaticism,  or  in  some  dark  mysticism.  It  is 
sometimes  assumed  that  a  religious  exercise  is 
stamped  peculiarly  spiritual  if  it  is  manifestly 
irrational.  Such  gets  no  countenance  from  the 
virile  thinking  of  St.  Paul,  who  insists  that  the 
reason  may  be  a  vehicle  of  the  spirit.  Much 
play  has  been  made  on  the  distinction  between 
religion  and  theology,  the  one  as  the  life  of  the 
soul,  the  other  as  the  intellectual  presentation  of 
that  life.  It  is  a  distinction  which  sometimes 
needs  to  be  strenuously  maintained;  for  religion 
is  the  one  important  reality  of  which  theology  is 


CULTURE   OF    SPIRIT  257 

the  scientific  study.  At  the  same  time,  religion 
cannot  be  left  in  vagueness,  but  must  be  clothed 
with  a  body  of  systematic  thought.  The  mind  of 
man  cannot  allow  itself  to  be  waved  off  from 
the  most  important  region  of  life.  No  religion, 
however  real  and  vivid  in  its  personal  appeal,  can 
be  safe  if  the  intellect  has  not  been  secured  in 
its  service.  Religion  as  an  experience  precedes 
theology,  as  natural  life  precedes  the  science  of 
zoology,  but  it  is  a  necessity  of  the  mind  to 
attempt  to  bring  into  order  all  that  human  life 
involves. 

The  truth  to  keep  firm  hold  of  is  that  man  is 
a  real  unity,  and  that  the  spiritual  cannot  be  cut 
off  and  considered  by  itself  as  if  it  had  no  rela- 
tions to  body  or  mind  or  morals.  This  inter- 
relation of  all  the  parts  of  our  being  is  a  fact 
which  we  dare  not  lose  sight  of  in  religion  as  in 
what  are  considered  the  lower  levels  of  life.  The 
contemplative  and  the  practical,  the  inner  and 
the  outer,  are  connected  with  subtle  bonds,  and 
one  side  cannot  be  neglected  without  the  whole 
life  suffering.  We  sometimes  speak  as  jf  the 
soul  were  some  ghostly  entity  that  could  be  at- 
tended to  by  itself  and  nursed  into  richness  of 
nature ;  and  we  have  often  longed  to  have  leisure. 


258  CULTURE  OF  SPIRIT 

to  pay  heed  to  the  soul's  life  by  itself,  using  all 
the  approved  methods  of  cultivating  spiritual 
mindedness.  It  is  a  mistake  which  is  responsible 
for  many  an  error.  We  must  make  the  whole 
life  spiritual,  and  carry  up  all  parts  of  our  being 
together.  We  suffer  seriously  by  our  sectional 
experiments,  but  nowhere  so  seriously  as  in  the 
matter  of  religion.  F.  D.  Maurice's  experience 
is  that  of  many  another :  '  I  dream  sometimes  of 
times  when  one  might  have  more  inward  and  less 
outward  business;  but  after  forty  years'  experi- 
ence I  find  that  the  inward  is  not  better  in  my 
case  but  worse  for  want  of  the  outward,  and  that  I 
really  seek  God  most  when  I  need  His  help  to 
enable  me  to  do  what  He  has  set  me  to  do.' 

It  comes  to  this,  that  devotion  like  everything 
else  must  be  tested  by  life.  The  practical  must 
always  be  used  to  restrain  or  at  least  to  correct 
the  mystical.  There  is  a  mysticism  which  is 
alien  to  the  Christian  faith.  There  is  a  mysti- 
cism which  is  a  morbid  growth,  which  might  be 
called  almost  spiritual  sensualism;  for  it  is  as 
much  a  thing  of  the  senses  as  of  the  soul.  It  is 
divorced  from  action.  Its  spiritual  ecstasies  are 
enjoyed  without  a  thought  of  the  duty  and 
service  which  should  follow.  True  religion  has 


CULTURE  OF  SPIRIT  259 

always  an  eye  to  the  practical.  We  should  be 
suspicious  of  the  piety  which  does  not  know 
service,  of  the  prayer  which  does  not  lead  to 
work,  of  the  mysticism  which  begins  and  ends 
in  its  own  emotions.  If  a  man  think  himself 
spiritual,  let  him  take  knowledge  of  the  practical 
demands  made  upon  him  by  his  special  profession, 
judging  his  experiences  by  reason  and  by  con- 
science and  by  the  practical  results  in  his  life. 
It  is  not  an  argument  against  spiritual  ideals,  but 
for  the  control  and  education  of  them  and  their 
growth  in  true  grace. 

We  cannot  forget  also  that  the  very  methods 
which  are  necessary  to  secure  and  maintain 
spiritual  insight  can  themselves  become  corrupt, 
and  sin  can  mingle  in  our  most  holy  things. 
The  accredited  means  we  use  for  spiritual  culture, 
approved  by  all  who  are  in  a  position  to  advise 

—  prayer,  solitude,  meditation,  devotional  reading 

—  all  are  liable  to  abuse  and  need  to  be  carefully 
guarded  against  mistake.      We  can  have  all  the 
methods  and  seasons  of  prayer  and  yet  not  have 
the  heart  brought  into  subjection. 

The  river  is  bound  by  the  ice-king's  thong  ; 
Below,  the  current  runs  swift  and  strong. 

It  is  no  valid  argument  against  prayer  that  it 


260  CULTURE  OF   SPIRIT 

can  be  misused,  but  it  is  an  argument  for  a  re- 
newed serious  endeavour  to  use  it  rightly.  The 
same  is  true  of  the  other  methods  and  aids  to 
devotion.  Robertson  of  Brighton  tells  in  a  letter 
how  he  stopped  devotional  reading  for  a  time, 
when  he  learned  that  devotional  feelings  may 
be  very  distinct  from  uprightness  and  purity  of 
life.  He  had  evidently  come  across  cases  where 
he  judged  that  these  feelings  were  strangely 
allied  to  the  animal  nature,  seemingly  the  result 
of  a  warm  temperament,  and  were,  as  he  says, 
guides  to  hell  under  the  form  of  angels  of  light. 
These  cases  disgusted  him,  and  made  him  sus- 
pect feelings  which  he  had  hitherto  cherished 
as  the  holiest,  and  produced  a  reaction.  He  saw 
that  the  basest  feelings  lie  very  near  to  our 
highest,  and  that  they  pass  into  one  another  by 
insensible  transitions.  '  The  true  lesson  is  to 
watch,  suspect,  and  guard  aspirations  after  good, 
not  to  drown  them  as  spurious.'  In  spite  of  this 
temporary  disgust  he  felt  the  need  which  de- 
votional books  supply,  and  determined  to  begin 
them  again ;  for  '  our  affections  must  be  nurtured 
in  the  Highest,  or  else  our  whole  life  flags  and 
droops.' 

This  is  a  region  where  one  is  afraid   of  dis- 


CULTURE   OF   SPIRIT  261 

couraging  any,  since  few  enough  seriously  at- 
tempt any  spiritual  culture  at  all ;  but  we  will 
be  safe  if  we  pay  heed  to  the  warning  that  every 
gift  means  added  responsibility,  and  every  privi- 
lege is  meant  for  duty.  Our  Lord's  example  shows 
us  the  mean  between  the  extremes  of  the  purely 
contemplative  and  the  purely  active  life.  Devo- 
tion is  designed  to  fit  us  more  truly  for  the  tasks 
and  needs  of  life.  The  still  hour  is  for  the  stormy 
hours :  communion  is  for  life  :  prayer  is  for 
work.  The  devotional  life  finds  its  meaning  and 
purpose  in  active  service.  By  their  fruits  ye  shall 
know  them. 

But  there  can  be  no  fruit  at  all  unless  the 
branch  abide  in  the  vine.  This  is  last  of  all  and 
first  of  all.  Without  God  the  soul  is  only  an 
empty  possibility ;  He  is  needed  to  vitalise  it. 
The  appeal  of  this  book  is  for  a  completer  cul- 
ture than  most  of  us  have  hitherto  attempted. 
We  are  daily  living  below .  our  conscience,  and 
below  our  convictions,  and  far  below  our  privi- 
leges ;  and  all  because  we  do  not  live  our  life 
with  continual  reference  to  God,  with  thoughts, 
affections,  hopes,  desires  circling  towards  Him, 
as  a  bird  hovers  to  its  nest.  In  spite  of  all  the 
dangers  to  which  we  have  called  attention,  we 


262  CULTURE  OF   SPIRIT 

must  see  that  we  are  not  fulfilling  the  end  of  our 
being,  if  we  have  no  unseen  life  hid  with  Christ 
in  God.  We  must  see  that  to  be  spiritually 
minded  is  the  only  life.  The  saintly  M'Cheyne 
said,  '  It  is  not  so  much  great  talents  God  blesses, 
as  great  likeness  to  Christ.'  This  is  our  great 
ideal  and  example,  and  sums  up  to  us  all  methods 
of  spiritual  culture.  He  is  so  much  the  Master 
of  the  spiritual  world  that  when  we  mention 
faith,  we  can  only  mean  faith  as  it  is  in  Jesus. 
He  is  the  way  of  access  to  the  Father;  He  is  the 
assurance  to  us  of  eternal  things,  the  sign  of  the 
invisible ;  He  opens  the  door  of  the  spiritual 
world  to  us.  To  be  in  union  with  Him  is  life ;  to 
have  His  mind  in  us  is  to  be  spiritually  minded. 
The  Christian  task  is  the  practice  of  the  presence 
of  Christ. 

My  soul,  wait  thou  upon  God,  with  the  holy 
meditation  which  makes  a  man  calm  at  the 
heart,  and  strong  for  all  the  needs  of  living. 
There  is  rest  at  the  centre.  Thou  losest  nothing 
if  thou  losest  not  God.  Let  the  world  go  past 
with  its  dust  and  noise,  with  its  fret  and  fume. 
My  soul,  wait  thou  upon  God. 


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Addams  —  The  Spirit  of  Youth  and  the  City  Streets.     BY  JANE 

ADDAMS. 

"  Shows  such  sanity,  such  breadth  and  tolerance  of  mind,  and  such 
penetration  into  the  inner  meanings  of  outward  phenomena  as  to 
make  it  a  book  which  no  one  can  afford  to  miss."  —  New  York  Times. 

Addams  —  A  New  Conscience  and  An  Ancient  Evil.     BY  JANE 

ADDAMS. 

"  A  clear,  sane,  and  frank  discussion  of  a  problem  in  civilized 
society  of  the  greatest  importance." 

Bailey  —  The  Country  Life  Movement  in  the  United  States.    BY 

L.  H.  BAILEY. 

"...  clearly  thought  out,  admirably  written,  and  always  stimu- 
lating in  its  generalization  and  in  the  perspectives  it  opens."  — 
Philadelphia  Press. 

Bailey  and  Hunn  —  The  Practical  Garden  Book.     BY  L.  H.  BAILEY 

AND  C.  E.  HUNN. 

"  Presents  only  those  facts  that  have  been  proved  by  experience, 
and  which  are  most  capable  of  application  on  the  farm."  —  Los 
Angeles  Express. 

Campbell  —  The  New  Theology.     BY  R.  J.  CAMPBELL. 

"  A  fine  contribution  to  the  better  thought  of  our  times  written  in 
the  spirit  of  the  Master."  —  St.  Paul  Dispatch. 

Clark  —  The  Care  of  a  House.     BY  T.  M.  CLARK. 

"  If  the  average  man  knew  one-ninth  of  what  Mr.  Clark  tells  him 
in  this  book,  he  would  be  able  to  save  money  every  year  on  repairs, 
etc."  —  Chicago  Tribune. 

3 


Conyngton  —  How  to  Help:  A  Manual  of  Practical  Charity.     BY 

MARY  CONYNGTON. 

"  An  exceedingly  comprehensive  work  with  chapters  on  the  home- 
less man  and  woman,  care  of  needy  families,  and  the  discussions  of 
the  problems  of  child  labor." 

Coolidge  —  The  United  States  as  a  World  Power.     BY  ARCHIBALD 

CARY  COOLIDGE. 

"  A  work  of  real  distinction  .  .  .  which  moves  the  reader  to 
thought."  —  The  Nation. 

Croly  —  The  Promise  of  American  Life.     BY  HERBERT  CROLY. 

"  The  most  profound  and  illuminating  study  of  our  national  conditions 
which  has  appeared  in  many  years."  —  THEODORE  ROOSEVELT. 

Devine  —  Misery  and  Its  Causes.     BY  EDWARD  T.  DEVINE. 

"  One  rarely  comes  across  a  book  so  rich  in  every  page,  yet  so 
sound,  so  logical,  and  thorough."  —  Chicago  Tribune. 

Earle  —  Home  Life  in  Colonial  Days.     BY  ALICE  MORSE  EARLE. 
"  A  book  which  throws  new  light  on  our  early  history." 

Ely  —  Evolution  of  Industrial  Society.    BY  RICHARD  T.  ELY. 

"  The  benefit  of  competition  and  the  improvement  of  the  race, 
municipal  ownership,  and  concentration  of  wealth  are  treated  in  a 
sane,  helpful,  and  interesting  manner."  —  Philadelphia  Telegraph. 

Ely  —  Monopolies  and  Trusts.     BY  RICHARD  T.  ELY. 

"  The  evils  of  monopoly  are  plainly  stated,  and  remedies  are  pro- 
posed. This  book  should  be  a  help  to  every  man  in  active  business 
life."  —  Baltimore  Sun. 

French  —  How  to  Grow  Vegetables.    BY  ALLEN  FRENCH. 

"  Particularly  valuable  to  a  beginner  in  vegetable  gardening,  giving 
not  only  a  convenient  and  reliable  planting-table,  but  giving  particu- 
lar attention  to  the  culture  of  the  vegetables."  —  Suburban  Life. 

Goodyear  —  Renaissance  and  Modern  Art.     W.  H.  GOODYEAR. 
"  A  thorough  and  scholarly  interpretation  of  artistic  development." 

Hapgood  —  Abraham  Lincoln :  The  Man  of  the  People.     BY  NORMAN 

HAPGOOD. 

"  A  life  of  Lincoln  that  has  never  been  surpassed  in  vividness, 
compactness,  and  homelike  reality."  —  Chicago  Tribune. 

Haultain  —  The  Mystery  of  Golf.     BY  ARNOLD  HAULTAIN. 

"  It  is  more  than  a  golf  book.  There  is  interwoven  with  it  a  play 
of  mild  philosophy  and  of  pointed  wit."  —  Boston  Globe. 

4 


Hearn  — Japan:     An   Attempt   at    Interpretation.     BY    LAFCADIO 
HEARN. 

"  A  thousand  books  have  been  written  about  Japan,  but  this  one 
is  one  of  the  rarely  precious  volumes  which  opens  the  door  to  an 
intimate  acquaintance  with  the  wonderful  people  who  command  the 
attention  of  the  world  to-day."  —  Boston  Herald. 

Hillis  —  The    Quest   of  Happiness.     BY   REV.   NEWELL   DWIGHT 

HlLLIS. 

"  Its  whole  tone  and  spirit  is  of  a  sane,  healthy  optimism." —  Phila- 
delphia Telegraph. 

Hillquit —  Socialism  in  Theory  and  Practice.    BY  MORRIS  HILLQUIT. 
"  An  interesting  historical  sketch  of  the  movement."  —  Newark 
Evening  News. 

Hodges  —  Everyman's  Religion.     BY  GEORGE  HODGES. 

"  Religion  to-day  is  preeminently  ethical  and  social,  and  such  is 
the  religion  so  ably  and  attractively  set  forth  in  these  pages."  — 
Boston  Herald. 

Home  —  David  Livingstone.     BY  SILVESTER  C.  HORNE. 

The  centenary  edition  of  this  popular  work.  A  clear,  simple, 
narrative  biography  of  the  great  missionary,  explorer,  and  scientist. 

Hunter  —  Poverty.     BY  ROBERT  HUNTER. 

"  Mr.  Hunter's  book  is  at  once  sympathetic  and  scientific.  He 
brings  to  the  task  a  store  of  practical  experience  in  settlement  work 
gathered  in  many  parts  of  the  country." —  Boston  Transcript. 

Hunter  —  Socialists  at  Work.     BY  ROBERT  HUNTER. 

"  A  vivid,  running  characterization  of  the  foremost  personalities 
in  the  Socialist  movement  throughout  the  world."  —  Review  of 
Reviews. 

Jefferson— The  Building  of  the  Church.    BY  CHARLES  E.  JEFFERSON. 
"  A  book  that  should  be  read  by  every  minister." 

King  —  The  Ethics  of  Jesus.     BY  HENRY  CHURCHILL  KING. 

"  I  know  no  other  study  of  the  ethical  teaching  of  Jesus  so  scholarly, 
so  careful,  clear,  and  compact  as  this."  —  G.  H.  PALMER,  Harvard 
University. 

King  — The    Laws    of    Friendship  —  Human    and    Divine.     BY 

HENRY  CHURCHILL  KING. 

"  This  book  is  full  of  sermon  themes  and  thought-inspiring  sen- 
tences worthy  of  being  made  mottoes  for  conduct."  —  Chicago 
Tribune. 

5 


King  —  Rational  Living.     BY  HENRY  CHURCHILL  KING. 

"  An  able  conspectus  of  modern  psychological  investigation, 
viewed  from  the  Christian  standpoint."  —  Philadelphia  Public 
Ledger. 

London  —  The  War  of  the  Classes.     BY  JACK  LONDON. 

"  Mr.  London's  book  is  thoroughly  interesting,  and  his  point  of 
view  is  very  different  from  that  of  the  closest  theorist."  —  Springfield 
Republican. 

London  —  Revolution  and  Other  Essays.     BY  JACK  LONDON. 
"  Vigorous,  socialistic  essays,  animating  and  insistent." 

Lyon  —  How  to  Keep  Bees  for  Profit.     BY  EVERETT  D.  LYON. 

"  A  book  which  gives  an  insight  into  the  life  history  of  the  bee 
family,  as  well  as  telling  the  novice  how  to  start  an  apiary  and  care 
for  it."  —  Country  Life  in  America. 

McLennan — A  Manual  of  Practical  Farming.    BY  JOHN  MCLENNAN. 
"  The  author  has  placed  before  the  reader  in  the  simplest  terms  a 
means    of    assistance   in    the   ordinary    problems    of    farming."  — 
National  Nurseryman. 

Mabie  —  William  Shakespeare:  Poet,  Dramatist,  and  Man.     BY 

HAMILTON  W.  MABIE. 
"  It  is  rather  an  interpretation  than  a  record." —  Chicago  Standard. 

Mahaffy  —  Rambles  and  Studies  in  Greece.     BY  J.  P.  MAHAFFY. 

"  To  the  intelligent  traveler  and  lover  of  Greece  this  volume  will 
prove  a  most  sympathetic  guide  and  companion." 

Mathews  —  The  Church  and  the  Changing  Order.     BY  SHAILER 

MATHEWS. 

"  The  book  throughout  is  characterized  by  good  sense  and  restraint 
...  A  notable  book  and  one  that  every  Christian  may  read  with 
profit."  —  The  Living  Church. 

Mathews  —  The    Gospel   and   the    Modern    Man.     BY    SHAILER 

MATHEWS. 

"  A  succinct  statement  -f  the  essentials  of  the  New  Testament." 
—  Service. 

Wearing  —  Wages  in  the  United  States.     BY  SCOTT  NEARING. 

"  The  bo:  k  is  valuable  for  anybody  interested  in  the  main  question 
of  the  day  —  the  labor  question." 

Patten  —  The  Social  Basis  of  Religion.     BY  SIMON  N.  PATTEN. 
"  A  work  of  substantial  value."  —  Continent. 
6 


Peabody  — The  Approach  to  the  Social  Question.    BY  FRANCIS 

GREENWOOD  PEABODY. 

"  This  book  is  at  once  the  most  delightful,  persuasive,  and  saga- 
cious contribution  to  the  subject."  —  Louisville  Courier-Journal. 

Pierce  —  The  Tariff  and  the  Trusts.     BY  FRANKLIN  PIERCE. 

"  An  excellent  campaign  document  for  a  non-protectionist."  — 
Independent. 

Rauschenbusch —  Christianity  and  the  Social  Crisis.     BY  WALTER 

RAUSCHENBUSCH. 

"  It  is  a  book  to  like,  to  learn  from,  and  to  be  charmed  with."  — 
New   York  Times. 

Riis  —  The  Making  of  an  American.     BY  JACOB  Rns. 

"  Its  romance  and  vivid  incident  make  it  as  varied  and  delightful 
as  any  romance."  —  Publisher's  Weekly. 

Riis  —  Theodore  Roosevelt,  the  Citizen.     BY  JACOB  Rns. 

"  A  refreshing  and  stimulating  picture."  —  New   York  Tribune. 

Ryan  —  A  Living  Wage;  Its  Ethical  and  Economic  Aspects.     BY 

REV.  J.  A.  RYAN. 

"  The  most  judicious  and  balanced  discussion  at  the  disposal  of  the 
general  reader."  —  World  To-day. 

Scott  —  Increasing  Human  Efficiency  in  Business.     BY  WALTER 

DILL  SCOTT. 

"  An  important  contribution  to  the  literature  of  business  psy- 
chology."—  The  American  Banker. 

St.  Maur  —  The  Earth's  Bounty.     BY  KATE  V.  ST.  MATJR. 
"  Practical  ideas  about  the  farm  and  garden." 

St.  Maur  —  A  Self-supporting  Home.     BY  KATE  V.  ST.  MAUR. 

"  Each  chapter  is  the  detailed  account  of  all  the  work  necessary 
''         for  one  month  —  in  the  vegetable  garden,  among  the  small  fruits, 
with  the  fowls,  guineas,  rabbits,  and  in  every  branch  of  husbandry 
to  be  met  with  on  the  small  farm."  —  Louisville  Courier-Journal. 

Sherman  —  What  is  Shakespeare?     BY  L.  A.  SHERMAN. 

"  Emphatically  a  work  without  which  the  library  of  the  Shake- 
speare student  will  be  incomplete."  —  Daily  Telegram. 

Sidgwick  —  Home  Life  in  Germany.     BY  A.  SIDGWICK. 

"  A  vivid  picture  of  social  life  and  customs  in  Germany  to-day." 
Simons  —  Social  Forces  in  American  History.  BY  A.  W.  SIMONS. 

"  A  forceful  interpretation  of  events  in  the  light  of  economics." 
7 


Smith  —  The  Spirit  of  American  Government.     BY  J.  ALLEN  SMITH. 
"  Not  since  Bryce's  '  American  Commonwealth  '  has  a  book  been 
produced  which  deals  so  searchingly  with  American  political  in- 
stitutions and  their  history."  —  New    York  Evening  Telegram. 

Spargo  —  Socialism.    BY  JOHN  SPARGO. 

"  One  of  the  ablest  expositions  of  Socialism  that  has  ever  been 
written." —  New  York  Evening  Call. 

Tarbell  —  History  of  Greek  Art.     BY  T.  B.  TARBELL. 

"  A  sympathetic  and  understanding  conception  of  the  golden  age 
of  art." 

Trask  —  In  the  Vanguard.     BY  KATRINA  TRASK. 

"  Katrina  Trask  has  written  a  book  —  in  many  respects  a  won- 
derful book  —  a  story  that  should  take  its  place  among  the  classics." 
—  Brooklyn  Daily  Eagle. 

Valentine  -  How  to  Keep  Hens  for  Profit.     BY  C.  S.  VALENTINE. 

"  Beginners  and  seasoned  poultrymen  will  find  in  it  much  of 
value." —  Chicago  Tribune. 

Van  Dyke  — The  Gospel  for  a  World  of  Sin.     BY   HENRY  VAN 

DYKE. 

"  One  of  the  basic  books  of  true  Christian  thought  of  to-day  and  of 
all  times."  —  Boston  Courier. 

Van  Dyke  —  The  Spirit  of  America.     BY  HENRY  VAN  DYKE. 

"  Undoubtedly  the  most  notable  interpretation  in  years  of  the  real 
America.  It  compares  favorably  with  Bryce's  '  American  Com- 
monwealth.' "  —  Philadelphia  Press. 

Veblen  —  The  Theory  of  the  Leisure  Class.     BY  THORSTEIN  B. 

VEBLEN. 

"  The  most  valuable  recent  contribution  to  the  elucidation  of  this 
subject."  —  London  Times. 

Vedder  —  Socialism   and   the   Ethics   of   Jesus.     BY   HENRY   C. 

VEDDER. 
"  A  timely  discussion  of  a  popular  theme." —  New   York  Post. 

Walling  —  Socialism  as  it  Is.    BY  WILLIAM  ENGLISH  WALLING. 

"...  the  best  book  on  Socialism  by  any  American,  if  not  the  best 
book  on  Socialism  in  the  English  language."  —  Boston  Herald. 

Wells  —  New  Worlds  for  Old.     BY  H.  G.  WELLS. 

"  As  a  presentation  of  Socialistic  thought  as  it  is  working  to-day, 
this  is  the  most  judicious  and  balanced  discussion  at  the  disposal  of 
the  general  reader."  —  World  To-day. 
8 


Weyl —  The  New  Democracy.     BY  WALTER  E.  WEYL. 

"  The  best  and  most  comprehensive  survey  of  the  general  social 
and  political  status  and  prospects  that  has  been  published  of  late 
years." 

White  —  The  Old  Order  Changeth.     BY  WILLIAM  ALLEN  WHITE. 

"  The  present  status  of  society  in  America.    An  excellent  antidote 
to   the   pessimism   of   modern   writers   on   our   social  system."  - 
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Allen  —  A  Kentucky  Cardinal.     BY  JAMES  LANE  ALLEN. 

"  A  narrative,  told  with  naive  simplicity,  of  how  a  man  who  was 
devoted  to  his  fruits  and  flowers  and  birds  came  to  fall  in  love  with  a 
fair  neighbor."  —  New  York  Tribune. 

Allen  —  The  Reign  of  Law.    A  Tale  of  the  Kentucky  Hempfields. 

BY  JAMES  LANE  ALLEN. 

"  Mr.  Allen  has  style  as  original  and  almost  as  perfectly  finished  as 
Hawthorne's.  .  .  .  And  rich  in  the  qualities  that  are  lacking  in  so 
many  novels  of  the  period."  —  San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

Atherton  —  Patience  Sparhawk.     BY  GERTRUDE  ATHERTON. 

"  One  of  the  most  interesting  works  of  the  foremost  American 
novelist." 

Child  —  Jim  Hands.     BY  RICHARD  WASHBURN  CHILD. 

"  A  big,  simple,  leisurely  moving  chronicle  of  life.  Commands  the 
profoundest  respect  and  admiration.  Jim  is  a  real  man,  sound  and 
fine."  —  Daily  News. 

Crawford  —  The  Heart  of  Rome.     BY  MARION  CRAWFORD. 
"  A  story  of  underground  mystery." 

Crawford  —  Fair  Margaret:  A  Portrait.     BY  MARION  CRAWFORD. 

"  A  story  of  modern  life  in  Italy,  visualizing  the  country  and  its 
people,  and  warm  with  the  red  blood  of  romance  and  melodrama."  — 
Boston  Transcript. 

Davis  —  A  Friend  of  Caesar.     BY  WILLIAM  STEARNS  DAVIS. 

"  There  are  many  incidents  so  vivid,  so  brilliant,  that  they  fix  them- 
selves in  the  memory."  —  NANCY  HUSTON  BANKS  in  The  Bookman. 

Drummond  —  The  Justice  of  the  King.     BY  HAMILTON  DRUMMOND. 
"  Read  the  story  i  .-lithe  sake  of  the  living,  breathing  people,  the 
adventures,  but  most  for  .  ^  sake  of  the  boy  who  served  love  and  the 
King."  —  Chicago  Record-herald. 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

"  It  is  full  of  nature  in  many  phases  —  of  breeze  and  sunshine,  ol 
the  glory  of  the  land,  and  the  sheer  joy  of  living." —  New  York 
Times. 

Gale  —  Loves  of  Pelleas  and  Etarre.     BY  ZONA  GALE. 

"...  full  of  fresh  feeling  and  grace  of  style,  a  draught  from  the 
fountain  of  youth."  —  Outlook. 

Herrick  —  The  Common  Lot.     BY  ROBERT  HERRICK. 

"  A  story  of  present-day  life,  intensely  real  in  its  picture  of  a  young 
architect  whose  ideals  in  the  beginning  were,  at  their  highest,  assthetic 
rather  than  spiritual.  It  is  an  unusual  novel  of  great  interest." 

London  —  Adventure.     BY  JACK  LONDON. 

"  No  rsader  af  Jack  London's  stories  need  be  told  that  this  abounds 
with  romantic  and  dramatic  incident."  —  Los  Angeles  Tribune. 

London  —  Burning  Daylight.     BY  JACK  LONDON. 

"  Jack  London  has  outdone  himself  in  '  Burning  Daylight.'  "  — 

The  Springfield   Union. 

Loti  —  Disenchanted.     BY  PIERRE  Loxi. 

"  It  gives  a  more  graphic  picture  of  the  life  of  the  rich  Turkish 
women  of  to-day  than  anything  that  has  ever  been  written."  — 
Brooklyn  Daily  Eagle. 

Lucas  —  Mr.  Ingleside.     BY  E.  V.  LUCAS. 

"  He  displays  himself  as  an  intellectual  and  amusing  observer  of 
life's  foibles  with  a  hero  characterized  by  inimitable  kindness  and 
humor."  —  The  Independent. 

Mason  —  The  Four  Feathers.     BY  A.  E.  W.  MASON. 

"  '  The  Four  Feathers  '  is  a  first-rate  story,  with  more  legitimate 
thrills  than  any  novel  we  have  read  in  a  long  time."  —  New  York 
Press. 

Norris  —  Mother.     BY  KATHLEEN  NORRIS. 

"  Worth  its  weight  in  gold."  —  Catholic  Columbian. 
Oxenham  —  The  Long  Road.     BY  JOHN  OXENHAM. 

"  '  The  Long  Road  '  is  a  tragic,  heart-gripping  story  of  Russian 
political  and  social  conditions."  —  The  Craftsman. 

Pryor  — The  Colonel's  Story.     BY  MRS.  ROGER  A.  PRYOR. 

"  The  story  is  one  in  which  the  spirit  of  the  Old  South  figures 
largely;  adventure  and  romance  have  their  play  and  carry  the  plot 
to  a  satisfying  end." 

ii 


Remington  —  Ermine  of  the  Yellowstone.    BY  JOHN  REMINGTON. 

"  A  very  original  and  remarkable  novel  wonderful  in  its  vigor  and 
freshness." 

Roberts  —  Kings  in  Exile.     BY  CHARLES  G.  D.  ROBERTS. 

"  The  author  catches  the  spirit  of  forest  and  sea  life,  and  the  reader 
comes  to  have  a  personal  love  and  knowledge  of  our  animal  friends." 
—  Boston  Globe. 

Robins  —  The  Convert.     BY  ELIZABETH  ROBINS. 

'  '  The  Convert  '  devotes  itself  to  the  exploitation  of  the  recent 
suffragist  movement  in  England.  It  is  a  book  not  easily  forgotten 
by  any  thoughtful  reader."  —  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

Robins  —  A  Dark  Lantern.     BY  ELIZABETH  ROBINS. 

A  powerful  and  striking  novel,  English  in  scene,  which  takes  an 
essentially  modern  view  of  society  and  of  certain  dramatic  situations. 

Ward— The  History  of  David  Grieve.   BY  MRS.  HUMPHREY  WARD. 
"  A  perfect  picture  of  life,  remarkable  for  its  humor  and  extraor- 
dinary success  at  character  analysis." 


THE   MACMILLAN    JUVENILE   LIBRARY 


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Each  volume,  cloth,  12mo,  50  cents  net;  postage,  10  cents  extra 


Altsheler  —  The  Horsemen  of  the  Plains.     BY  JOSEPH  A.  ALT- 

SHELER. 

"  A  story  of  the  West,  of  Indians,  of  scouts,  trappers,  fur  traders, 
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American  boy."  —  New  York  Sun. 

Bacon  —  While  Caroline  Was  Growing.    BY  JOSEPHINE  DASKAM 

BACON. 

"  Only  a  genuine  lover  of  children,  and  a  keenly  sympathetic 
observer  of  human  nature,  could  have  given  us  this  book."  — 
Boston  Herald. 


Carroll  —  Alice's  Adventures,  and  Through  the  Looking  Glass.    BY 

LEWIS  CARROLL. 
"  One  of  the  immortal  books  for  children." 

Diz  —  A  Little  Captive  Lad.     BY  MARIE  BEULAH  Dix. 

"  The  human  interest  is  strong,  and  children  are  sure  to  like  it."  — 
Washington  Times. 

Greene  —  Pickett's  Gap.     BY  HOMER  GREENE. 

"  The  story  presents  a  picture  of  truth  and  honor  that  cannot  fail 
to  have  a  vivid  impression  upon  the  reader."  —  Toledo  Blade. 

Lucas  —  Slowcoach.     BY  E.  V.  LUCAS. 

"  The  record  of  an  English  family's  coaching  tour  in  a  great  old- 
fashioned  wagon.  A  charming  narrative,  as  quaint  and  original  as 
its  name."  —  Booknews  Monthly. 

Mabie  —  Book  of  Christmas.     BY  H.  W.  MABIE. 

"  A  beautiful  collection  of  Christmas  verse  and  prose  in  which  all 
the  old  favorites  will  be  found  in  an  artistic  setting."  —  The  St. 
Louis  Mirror. 

Major  —  The  Bears  of  Blue  River.     BY  CHARLES  MAJOR. 
"  An  exciting  story  with  all  the  thrills  the  title  implies." 

Major  —  Uncle  Tom  Andy  Bill.     BY  CHARLES  MAJOR. 

"  A  stirring  story  full  of  bears,  Indians,  and  hidden  treasures."  — 
Cleveland  Leader. 

Nesbit  —  The  Railway  Children.     BY  E.  NESBIT. 

"  A  delightful  story  revealing  the  author's  intimate  knowledge  of 
juvenile  ways."  —  The  Nation. 

Whyte  —  The  Story  Book  Girls.     BY  CHRISTINA  G.  WHYTE. 

"  A  book  that  all  girls  will  read  with  delight  —  a  sweet,  wholesome 
story  of  girl  life." 

Wright  —  Dream  Fox  Story  Book.     BY  MABEL  OSGOOD  WRIGHT. 

"  The  whole  book  is  delicious  with  its  wise  and  kindly  humor,  its 
just  perspective  of  the  true  value  of  things." 

Wright  —  Aunt  Jimmy's  Will.     BY  MABEL  OSGOOD  WRIGHT. 
"  Barbara  has  written  no  more  delightful  book  than  this." 
13 


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